


Picking Up the Pieces, Now Where to Begin?

by coolasdicks



Category: Rooster Teeth/Achievement Hunter RPF
Genre: Blood, Death, Gen, M/M, Minecraft!AU, Slight torture, Violence, nothing too bad
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-04-10
Updated: 2014-04-10
Packaged: 2018-01-18 22:32:26
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 29,946
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1445263
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/coolasdicks/pseuds/coolasdicks
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>prompt: "Wow, you’re writing is the best. And you always go for length, which I LOVE because nothing ever seems long enough. If you’re cool with even more prompts than what you have, how about AH OT6 Minecraft AU where Michael sees things out of the ordinary or supernatural? Sometimes during LP’s the game lags and I’ve noticed that Michael has specifically not been able to see Ray a few times now or seen his ghost while he was still on screen. So maybe something like that? But not hallucinating or crazy."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Picking Up the Pieces, Now Where to Begin?

**Author's Note:**

> I listened to Waiting at the End a lot while writing this… huh. There will be two parts to this story. There is what could be considered a torture scene, but there’s nothing too brutal

_This is not the end..._

_\---_

It happened a lot more often when he wasn’t wearing his glasses.

The small framed pieces of glassware were stupidly annoying and completely impracticable in the world he lived in. They were extremely crooked from being sat on and stepped on one too many times. A small, miniscule crack was branching across the left lens, straight into his vision, and caused an awkward rift to distort his perception. The middle was tapped together from when Gavin had accidentally thrown a snowball with a rock embedded in it straight into his face. The shabby pair was standing on its last leg, obviously not meant to be worn by someone who killed creepers and yelled _Mogar!_ for a living.

But as it was, his eyesight sucked more dick than he did with five boyfriends. He needed that pair of glasses, rarely leaving home without it, and the times when he happened to either lose them or forget to put them on, he was miserable and clumsy throughout the day. His aim with his sword was thrown off by at _least_ four inches and the amount of times he’d knock down the torch he was working by was too many to count.

Something else happened during those days as well, and that was what _really_ kept him from forgetting his glasses. Flashes of light, odd and short-lived hallucinations, soft-spoken whispers of words malicious in nature just barely breathed the cusp of a breeze, and even the strong, overpowering scent of fire and decay assaulted his senses. Fairly positive that it was simply his fear of death getting to his head, he tried brushing as much of it off as he could. It only happened when he didn’t wear his damn glasses anyway, when he was at his most vulnerable – when he had to rely on his boyfriends to protect him.

And it was a little hard to trust someone who threw rock-covered snowballs at his face.

So, he made damn sure he didn’t forget to violently shove them onto the bridge of his nose as he made to leave his house, hurrying to depart the city with the others so that he wasn’t left behind. Today was a heavy catch-up day in the mines, and though Michael much preferred gathering food or being set on monster-duty, he still worked just as tirelessly in the mines as everyone else. He desperately didn’t want to be expected to find his way there on his own.

Scrambling to pull the spare coal out of the furnace in case he might need it for fuel, he was almost out the door when he suddenly cursed and turned right back around, realizing he’d forgotten his damn iron pickaxe.

He wasn’t doing too hot today.

Reaching into the chest, he shifted the items around until he was finally able to find and grip the handle, pulling it out with a mighty yank. He frowned and resentfully placed his sword in the empty spot, cursing the fact that he could only carry one at a time. Stashing it into his inventory, he stood up from his crouch and glanced out the window as he tugged his bear hoodie on.

“Fuck!” he yelled. The spot in which his boyfriends had been standing in was empty, the torch stuck to the side of Geoff’s house no longer shedding light on their bodies and instead illuminating the path that they’d taken. “Stupid fuckers,” he growled. “So fucking adamant about leaving before day breaks.”

He shook his head to himself, no longer in quite a rush. They’d already gone and Geoff was too far accustomed to Michael’s lackadaisical personality to yell at him when he was late. He took his time, rechecking his supplies and tightening the strap on his orange-tinted goggles.

Mining sucked for a multitude of reasons, and having to wear goggles over his glasses was high on the list.

He looked longingly at the unmade bed. _So tempting._ It was the fourth day in a row they were in the mines, and while Michael’s work morale was quickly declining, his work _ethic_ was not. With a sigh, he shut the wooden door behind him and started picking up the torches left behind for him, lest a creeper find the trail intriguing and wander into the city.

As the sun began to rise, Michael’s mood was further dampened when he realized it was going to be a shitty day. Clouds were boiling just over the horizon, the roots dark grey and tips reaching across the sky in a clear threat. He could smell rain stewing not a mile away. The ground was already beginning to soften under his boots, each of his steps leaving an impressive imprint in the malleable dirt.

The path to the mine was littered with signs of his lovers having passed through here not minutes earlier. Gavin was annoyingly prone to tapping his bow against the bark of trees as he passed, leaving many indents in the tree line at about eye-height. Ray’s nervous habit of snapping off tree branches destroyed the left side of the tree line, leaving it barren and a little sad looking. There were also some curious-looking skid marks tracing around some of the sharper turns. Michael could take a wild stab at guessing what had caused them and he would probably be right.

He whistled in time with the birds as he walked, squinting at the large dent in the trunk of a tree to his right. Frowning, he moved closer, fingertips grazing the large crater. He raised his eyebrows at the depth and wide diameter.

Unless Gavin had suddenly become a bodybuilder, this tree had been punched by a Golem, or something just as strong.

He tensed. If a Golem was nearby, he was in serious trouble. It was unlikely to see one more than three strides from its home village, but not unheard of. And if a Golem was roaming the forest, his lovers were in serious trouble.

Swallowing, he stepped away from the tree, eyes narrowed. Motionless, he stood in the middle of the trail, hands by his side and curled halfway into fists. His gloves provided him with a good hand-to-hand combat weapon in case he needed to defend his lovers against a straggling monster who managed to survive in the shade of a tree or cliff. Thin but durable pieces of flint were tapered into a fine point that allowed for maximum damage if he were to take a swipe at something. Michael had insisted he wouldn’t hurt himself with them, but Ryan had ignored him and factored in safety features regardless; the more he bent his fingers, the farther back they slide, so he didn’t risk the chance of puncturing his palm if he clenched his hands, and he had to and click the mechanism on the inside of his palm for them to lock into place.

They were still very effective, however, and offered Michael a good form of protection.

His breathing was loud in the still air as he scanned the area around him viciously, half-hoping to see a piece of zombie flesh sizzling on the grass so he could put the worrisome Golem thought out of his mind, but no suck luck. His eyes flickered up to the trees after a moment of thought, searching for any similar marks.

His blood ran cold.

There was another, much larger pit caving in a tree not six paces back. As he got closer, large crevices became distinguishable between the cracked and bent shards of bark, sap slowly soaking down the trunk and staining it nearly black. It was at least the size of his head, if not bigger, and the gashes made Michael think he’d been incorrect in his Golem guess.

An Enderman was more likely, but the things were notoriously weak in terms of physical force. While it was the only creature with the claws and height to inflict these gouges, an Enderman wouldn’t have been able to create such an indentation.

Michael had no idea what had made this. It chilled him to the bone.

And there were more of them.

He followed them with bated breath, eyes widening as his blood began to pump faster with adrenaline. They grew more and more ferocious with each one, ripping into the tree as if it had done the attacker a personal wrong. A strange _woosh_ noise started up in his hearing, most likely the product of his racing mind. It went unnoticed as he chased the trail further, coming damn near close to distress. In a few well-placed spots, they almost seemed like words, the lines staggered and curved in suspicious spots and tricking Michael’s brain into trying to translate the meaningless scratches.

He stopped dead at the one that said _FUN_.

“Coincidence,” he muttered, backing up slightly. Goosebumps raced up his arms, raising the hairs on the back of his neck and cause his scalp to tingle. “Or – or someone is playing a really shitty prank.”

But Michael knew that wasn’t true. Jack was vehement that they preserve the forest around the city and if he knew the trees had been defaced like this, he would be placing heads on spikes. No – this wasn’t one of them.

The loud swishing of the nearby portal drew his attention. He glanced around with a sinking feeling in his gut, realizing he was rather deep in the forest and fairly far from the trail. Light was just beginning to peak over the horizon, making it difficult for Michael to see the torches he was supposed to be following. Geoff was going to kill him, but at least he’d have a good excuse when he finally managed to make it to the mine.

The soft sounds of the portal were his guide as he trekked through the trees. It was easy to find due to its tall structure and loud noises, the vivid purple interior a bright lighthouse through the trees and leading the redhead in a likewise fashion.

Despite it being a rather ominous landmark, he still gave a heavy sigh of relief once he reached it. It was a sign of civilization and gave Michael slight peace of mind. He couldn’t shake the feeling plaguing his mind, however, and moved closer to the portal to reassure himself.

He almost didn’t notice it.

Something about the way the block was colored, even in the dim morning light. The shadows sat funny across the normally smooth surface of the obsidian, concaving in strange places and looking darker than normal. He almost let it slip his mind, _almost_ allowed it to go unnoticed.

But it wasn’t in Michael’s nature, and he looked down.

It was a smiley face.

A _smiley face_ was carved into the otherwise untouchable block. No _– each_ block. The eyes were hollowed out by gorges torn from the material, and the widened mouths reminded Michael of open wounds, split open like some mocking grin.

Eyes wide, Michael stepped away from the portal. He wasn’t sure how it was even possible – a diamond pickaxe was the only thing strong enough to mine it, and even then, the pickaxe did no damage to the precious resource.

It was quiet for a long time as Michael stared wordlessly at the ruined sculpture. Though he himself had not been the one to erect it, Michael felt offended that the structure had been needlessly ravaged. The deep, swirling, violet hues of the portal were the same, however, and it otherwise was fine – it was working properly, and that’s the only thing that _really_ mattered, he supposed.

They didn’t even use it, nor did they have any idea as to where it’d come from. Unwilling to waste a diamond pickaxe on the obsidian blocks and unaware of how to turn it off, they simply left it to idly whir in the middle of this clearing. It was calming but oddly… disturbing.

A twig snapping behind him made Michael spin around, but it was his only warning before something large, veiny, and pink came careening through the brushes, shiny gold glinting in the redhead’s peripheral vision before he was roughly slammed to the ground.

Michael went skidding across the dirt until he twisted onto his back and rolled over his shoulders until he was able to stand on his feet. He adjusted his stance into that of a fighter’s, tilting his shoulders forward and planting his feet solidly on the ground. He held his hands out in threatening claws, prepared to start ripping apart the creature’s ass, whether it be a zombie, skeleton, or Golem -

But it was nothing he’d ever seen before.

It wasn’t particularly tall, but it was wider than Jack and oddly bulging. Its skin was a shade of pink that resembled an infected wound, the occasional spot on his body covered in what looked like mold. The closest thing Michael could compare it to was something like a hybrid between a pig and a man. Though it wasn’t nearly as domineering as an Enderman, it still towered over him, shoulders wider than Michael was tall. Its face was horrific – the left half seemed to’ve been completely torn off, shreds of bloody skin hanging and swinging in clumps. Its grayish white skull was revealed to be underneath, the eye socket too bloody and mangled for Michael to tell if the eye was even still here. Clutched in its left pudgy hand was a short, stubby golden sword.

“Christ,” Michael cursed, staring wide-eyed at the monster. “What the hell are you?”

He didn’t really expect it to answer, so he was surprised when it started to open its mouth. It was a _shock_ when a horrifically loud, obnoxious squeal started gearing up, growing louder and louder as it pawed at the ground with a cloven foot. Belatedly realizing the thing was getting ready to charge, Michael leapt to the side at the last minute in a hasty, messy dodge.

Too bad it wasn’t a bull, or the tactic would’ve worked perfectly.

It turned quicker than Michael thought possible, big meaty arm reaching out to snatch his ankle midair. His dive was ruined, the momentum all wrong and resulting in Michael’s inertia to painfully backfire. He was swung around by his ankle like a chew toy, goggles and glasses flying off as the monster grinded to a stop. Michael scrabbled at the floor, ripping up clumps of dirt in his attempt to ground himself, but the monster was easily able to lift him feet in the air, allowing him to dangle like a piece of meat.

Michael wondered if it was trying to eat him.

“Agh!” he growled out, stretching up – or down? God, he was getting dizzy – to try and pry the beast’s hands off of his leg, but he didn’t have the abdominal strength to reach his foot. He switched directions and instead took a swipe at the beast’s chest, getting within inches before the thing jerked him back.

The grip on his ankle tightened painfully, a yelp slipping from his throat as he winced. The pigman squealed again, the noise hammering against Michael’s eardrums and sending shivers up the redhead’s spine. He could see its other arm raising up – preparing to shish-kabob him with the stubby golden sword.

Making a wild decision, Michael reached into his inventory and pulled out whatever was in the closest slot. Closing his eyes, he swung at the thing’s throat.

There was a sickening squelch, the pigman’s squeal abruptly cutting off with a loud gurgle. Something warm, wet, and startlingly thick started oozing down his arm when he tried pulling back on whatever he’d just impaled the pigman with. He hesitantly opened his eyes and a moment later he grinned in victory.

It’d been the iron pickaxe. The dangerously sharp end was buried in the thing’s carotid artery, almost four inches deep in the abnormally wide neck. Thick, clumpy blood was shooting out in spurts around the blindingly white mineral, dribbling down the handle and leaking onto Michael’s hand.

With a loud, rasping screech, it dropped him. He fell straight onto his head, stars bursting behind his eyelids, but he was in a lot better shape than the pigman, who immediately went pinwheeling backwards. It swatted at the weapon embedded in its flesh, but only succeeded in pushing it deeper, completely cutting off his windpipe. It fell eerily silent, even as its feet thundered across the ground. It was miraculous it didn’t completely flatten him. As it was, it stepped on his already sore and bruised ankle. Hoofed foot digging painfully into his skin, the pressure vanished almost as quickly as it’d come, the thing barreling across the clearing in a hasty stampede. It slammed into the side of the portal and went spiraling to the ground. The impact sent shockwaves through the air, all the way to Michael, who was still lying dumbstruck on the floor.

His chest heaved with deep, steadying breaths as he pushed himself into a rickety sitting position, head spinning as his eyesight went in and out of focus. The fuzzy image of the pigman’s collapsed form sharpened and blurred repeatedly before finally settling on a crystal clear picture of defeat. Through his confusion and disorientation, he gave an adrenaline-fueled grin of triumph.

It was dead.

He stood after a long moment of staring at the body, getting to his feet only when he was positive the thing had stopped twitching. His ankle throbbed with every step as he moved closer cautiously. The blood had stopped pooling from its corpse, but there was no telling whether or not the thing possessed necromantic capabilities, so he approached with trepidation, starkly aware that, with his pickaxe stuck into the thing’s neck, he had no weapon on him, and he doubted his bear claws were going to do much against the thick skin.

“Christ,” he said breathlessly. It was _huge._ And… really fucking disgusting. He made a face and covered his nose from the stench that was just now beginning to register in his quickly cooling brain. Arms and legs resembling wet noodles, he reached down to dislodge his pickaxe, gripping the handle tightly and yanking upwards. It came free, with a shit ton of sludge and skin sticking to the ivory surface. Frowning, he shook off the extra bits and wiped the tool on the grass to clean off the tacky crimson liquid. It left an ugly smear on the olive blades.

The sun had fully risen, casting what normally would’ve been a luminous, enchanting morning glow across the clearing, but the presence of this foreign creature certainly demolished any sense of pleasantry. Despite being a night person, Michael enjoyed the attitude of the morning sun. Now, however, it only served to remind him that he was wasting time standing here, dumbly staring at the blood coating his hands.

Placing the pickaxe back into his inventory, Michael couldn’t leave the clearing quick enough. He limped with vigor, brushing his way through the shrubbery with haste slightly unreasonable considering the danger was past. Impatiently rubbing the sore spot on his skull, he hoped that a concussion wasn’t going to hinder his navigation skills – not that they were that great to start with. Gavin often joked that if placed ten blocks outside of the city, Michael wouldn’t be able to find his way back home.

“Not _that_ dumb,” Michael muttered, heading towards the trail that led to the mine. The rising sun started heating his hoodie on his back and he took a break to pull it off, grimacing when he saw that it was saturated with smelly globs of the pigman’s blood. “Dammit,” he cursed. “It’s gonna be a _bitch_ wash that out.”

Sighing and shaking his head, he shoved it into the slot farthest slot in his inventory to get rid of the smell and continued on his way, passing the shredded trunks of trees with sharp glances, as if they’d personally summoned the creature. He didn’t know _what_ the fuck that thing was, but it had been fucking pissed off. Gave him a solid head injury and almost broke his ankle.

Burying a pickaxe in its neck was the _least_ Michael could pay it back with.

\---

Geoff didn’t want to say he was angry… but he was totally angry.

“Geoff, hit that any harder and you might break your fingers,” Ray said with a raised eyebrow. Leaning against the wall, he sucked on a juice box and watched with amusement as Geoff hammered away at the chunks of stone.

Wiping away the beads of sweat dotting his forehead, Geoff sent the brunette a glare. “Shut it, Ray.”

“I know you’re pissed, but _no one_ here wants you to break your fingers,” Ray said, grinning suggestively. Geoff couldn’t help but chuckle, rolling his eyes at the flirty click of the tongue Ray made. “What can I say? We like your fingers, Geoff.”

“Stop making me smile,” Geoff ordered with a grin. “It’s hard to be angry when I’m smiling.”

“Good,” Ray said, nodding. “You being angry is, like, the worst thing. You’re such a _douche_ when you’re angry.”

Geoff shook his head in exasperation as he swung his pickaxe over his head with gusto, the sharp edge of the iron effectively breaking the block he’d been working on. It shattered and fell to the floor, landing in his stack with a satisfying pop. Geoff leaned back and wiped his forehead once again, grimacing when he realized that he’d already gathered two full stacks of cobblestone and it hadn’t even been two hours.

Michael was gonna fucking get it when he finally decided to get his ass into gear.

Sensing someone’s eyes on him, Geoff glanced over to Ray, who was indeed eyeing him with something akin to hunger. The brunette himself was looking particularly good in the dim lighting of the torch, the contours of his sweaty upper body glistening and rippling. Ray might’ve been the smallest of the six, but with all the work they did in the mines, none of them were particularly skinny. Each had a fair bit of muscle built up from over the years.

And if Geoff was being honest, it made for _really_ hot sex.

Catching Geoff’s heated gaze, Ray pushed off the wall with a smirk, walking closer with predatory movements. And – yeah, he was definitely swinging his hips like that on purpose.

A callus-hardened palm pressed feather light against Geoff’s stomach, shifting upwards to stroke his bare chest. Geoff liked to work without a shirt to tease the rest of the men, though right now it was only Ray and Geoff in the main tunnel, as the rest had taken their break above ground. Ray wasn’t scared off by Geoff’s rather frightful temper, however, and had stayed. Geoff appreciated it.

Geoff was _really_ appreciating it now. He grinned down at the younger, allowing Ray to explore as he wished. The hand on his chest, drifted across his pectorals, dancing across the tattoos decorating his clavicle in hypnotizing patterns. Ray’s talented fingers gently airbrushed over all of Geoff’s sensitive areas, sending pleasant shivers down the tattooed man’s spine.

Giving up quickly, Geoff wrapped a muscled arm around the other’s waist and yanked him closer, pressing their mouths together and biting his lower lip softly. His tongue traced the seam of Ray’s lips and he could feel the younger’s body melting against his own –

_Beep, beep, beep, beep –_

“Goddammit!” Ray yelled, face red as he broke away, the ringing of the alarmclock echoing down the mine’s tunnels. “I was _almost_ there!”

Geoff raised an eyebrow. “Almost there?” he asked.

“You were _almost_ out of your shitty mood,” Ray muttered. “I owe Michael for leaving him, er, tied up the other night and this was the perfect chance to get him to stop bugging me about it!”

Rolling his eyes, Geoff playfully pushed the brunette with a pretend hurt expression. “Ray – you wound me. Using me to pay Michael a debt? I’m hurt.”

“Shut up,” Ray told him, smiling. The rest of the guys’ footsteps were loud as they bumbled and tripped their way down the stairs. “I’ll use you _any_ day.”

“Get back to work,” Geoff said, laughing. The three others poked their head around the corner, clearly cautious, but Geoff could see the relief color their eyes when they realized he was no longer hacking viciously at the walls. He sniffed and paused, hands tightening and shifting on the rubber grip of the pickaxe. “Michael here yet?”

They traded side-eyed glances. “Er, no,” Ryan answered after a pause.

Geoff smacked his lips in contemplation. He nodded to himself. “I’m gonna kill him,” he decided. He paused. “But first, punishment will be _so_ sweet.”

Gavin snickered, gleeful. “Can I watch?”

“You can _help._ ”

“Top,” Gavin said smugly.

Jack made an exasperated noise and walked further into the small tunnel, squeezing by Ray and opening the chest in the corner of a dug-out hole in the wall. He started emptying out his inventory so that he was less weighed down as he worked, a good idea that Geoff should really look into soon. He was beginning to tire and it was hardly the beginning of the day, the ache already present in his muscles.

He swung his pickaxe over his shoulder and leaned against the wall, panting slightly. Perspiration dripped into his eye, Geoff grunting in annoyance and raising a hand to slick his dampened hair back. His lungs burned slightly, making him think that perhaps he should slow his roll. None of the other men had even broken a sweat.

So he took it easy as the other began to work their ass off. It was fun watching Jack in particular, though admittedly everyone was a sight to see while their muscles rippled and skin stretched with each powerful left and fall. But with Jack it was mesmerizing, often leaving Geoff either in a puddle of drool or with an awkward boner. It was an odd mix of jealousy and arousal that kept his eyes glued to the bearded man’s muscular, impressive physique, the sight of bulging biceps and tightly packed six-pack abs causing Geoff’s attention to be drawn like a moth to flame.

The sound of mining filled the tunnel, a generally pleasant sound. Geoff couldn’t help but notice, however, that it was lacking a certain curly haired redhead, and as the day progressed, his concern grew until it equaled his annoyance.

It was damn near noon by the time the prick finally came around.

The sound of shuffling in the main tunnel made Geoff’s pickaxe swings stutter. Quickly counting the heads of his boys, his eyes narrowed when it was confirmed to be Michael, the sound of the redhead’s footsteps oddly staggered. Knowing that no zombie would be able to access the mine’s entrance without burning to death, he immediately shucked his pickaxe and stacks of cobblestone into the chest before going to confront one of his idiot boyfriends.

“Geoff,” Michael said immediately once the tattooed man rounded the corner. His voice was surprisingly drenched in relief, palm up against the wall as he leaned heavily to the side. He seemed to be panting in exhaustion.

“I doubt you ran here,” Geoff said, eyebrow ticked, but he couldn’t help feel worried. While he was used to lame ass excuses and wild stories, it was normally Ray or Gavin who lied. Michael tended to not be embarrassed about his leisurely pace, and putting on an act such as this seemed out of character for the lad.

“No, of course I didn’t run here,” Michael said as if it was obvious. There was something smeared over the bridge of his nose, but the dim lighting made it hard for Geoff to make out many details.

“Well?” Geoff prompted after a long moment of silence, in which Michael panted and tried to catch his breath. “Aren’t you going to at least _try_ and explain?”

“Y-yeah, gimme a sec,” Michael huffed, agitated. “You’re kind of a dickhead sometimes, Geoffers. Can you help me out here?”

Geoff made a disgruntled noise. “You skip out on work for almost half the day and then expect me to tote you around the mine? Either pick up an axe and get to work or start tap-dancing to entertain those of us who actually have a speck of responsibility.”

Michael stared at him in shocked silence, the expression on his face a strange mix of offence and disbelief. “I didn’t skip work,” he said in a tight voice. “Geoff – there was something by the portal, it –”

“You were by the portal?” Geoff demanded, annoyed. “God, _why_?”

“He probably got lost,” Gavin said from behind him, smiling. Geoff half-turned to give him an irritated glare.

“I didn’t get lost,” Michael snapped. “I was attacked!”

Geoff frowned, his anger remaining but shifting towards whatever had attacked one of his boys. “What?” he said sharply. “What attacked you? Are you hurt?”

“I – I have no idea what it was,” Michael said, sounding bewildered. “Some kind of mutated pig -”

“What?” Gavin sputtered, beginning to laugh.

Ray seemed to appear over Gavin’s shoulder, sniggering. “Okay, Michael? Tip? If you’re going to make up an excuse, it has to be something believable.”

“I’m serious,” Michael gritted out. He shifted his weight gingerly between his feet, still heavily leaning against the wall. “It fucked up the portal!”

“You can’t fuck up a portal,” Gavin said, shaking his head. “Now it’s just terrible, Michael. Stop now, while you’re still going to stand the chance of walking.”

Michael looked like he was going to start tearing heads off. “I’m not fucking kidding, Gavin!” he yelled, voice cracking slightly. “I – I think it was trying to eat me.”

Gavin frowned, looking uneasy. “It’s getting sad, Michael,” he said, though now he sounded unsure.

Geoff moved closer to the redhead, scanning his body with cutting eyes. He held out his arms in an offer but Michael batted them away with a nasty look.

“Fucking – come look if you don’t believe me!” he said crossly, backing up slightly.

“It’s the middle of the day! We have another entire section to cut out –”

“Geoff, I’m fucking dead serious right now,” Michael said gravely. When Geoff hesitated, the redhead seemed to blurt, “You take the mining more seriously than you take our safety?”

_Fucker._

“Goddammit,” Geoff sighed, scrubbing a hand over his face. “Fine, fine,” he said bitterly. Turning over his shoulder, he barked, “Gavin. Ray. Fucking get back to work, you morons. Stay with Jack and Ryan; try to finish the rest of this section. Do that and we’re done for the day.”

“But Michael didn’t have to do _anything_ today!” Gavin pointed out with a whine.

“I’ll take care of it,” Geoff assured him, internally grinning at the grimace Michael made. “Just please – try and finish. You’d be doing me a huge favor if you did?”

The bait was set.

Gavin frowned but nodded, a determined glint now gleaming in his green eyes. Geoff smiled in thanks and turned to face his problem boyfriend with a much less pleasant expression. Worry was battling with skepticism as he followed the redhead out of the mine, Michael’s gate oddly shuffled.

“What’s wrong with your leg?” Geoff asked when they reached daylight. He looked around, shielding his eyes against the bright sun.

“It got stepped on,” Michael answered bitingly, drawing a confused glance from Geoff.

His heart almost stopped.

“Michael, there’s blood on your nose!” he exclaimed, moving forward with speed unfamiliar to the two of them. He clutched Michael’s face between his palms, running his thumb gently across the bridge of the younger’s nose in search of an injury, but the freckled skin seemed untouched. “What’s it from?”

Michael pulled away with a cringe, pursing his lips. “It’s not mine,” he told Geoff. “It was the thing’s.”

“Michael, what are you talking about?” Geoff pressed, frowning. “Are you okay?”

Michael shook his head, though it didn’t seem to be in answer of his question. “I fucking told you but you’re not listening to me,” he said, obviously frustrated. “I’ll show you the goddamn body; I killed his ass before he killed mine.”

“Okay, okay,” Geoff conceded, nodding.

“Good,” Michael said. He hesitated. “Now, uh… which way is the portal?”

\---

“Geoff.”

“No, Michael.”

“But Geoff –”

“Michael. No.”

_“Geoff -”_

“Michael, shut the fuck up!” Geoff exploded, turning and glaring furiously at the redhead. Michael didn’t back down, stubbornly setting his jaw and crossing his arms. He limped slightly as he followed behind the tattooed man, gritting his teeth to avoid letting a whimper slip out. His ankle was beginning to swell in his boot, each step sending a rip of agony up his leg, but Geoff would just further berate him at this point.

“Geoff, I’m not fucking crazy!” Michael yelled, grabbing the tattooed man’s shoulder to get him to listen. “There claw marks and – and there was a body! Wolves had to’ve dragged it away. That’s the only explanation.”

Geoff shook his head, clearly angry with the younger. Michael’s stomach seemed to fall a few inches in his abdomen as he desperately begged the other to believe him. “Geoff, I wouldn’t lie just to make up for being late! I was seriously attacked!”

“Michael,” Geoff sighed, and ah, fuck – he sounded disappointed. Michael almost ran into Geoff when the other stopped walking. He caught himself just in time, however, and watched as his boyfriend turned to face him with a heavy sigh. “What am I supposed to do here? There’s no body, no evidence –”

“There’s me fucking talking to you!” Michael shouted. “How about the bit where I fucking _told_ you what happened! God, stop acting like my goddamn boss and be my boyfriend for like two seconds here –”

“I’m not ‘acting’ like your boss, I _am_ your boss,” Geoff said calmly, though Michael could see the rising heat in his eyes. He knew he was pressing buttons he ought not touch but he firmly believed that he was in the right. “And right now, I’m going to be a bastard one. You just randomly show up, hours late, and tell me that some weird mutant jumped you in the forest? Michael, an employee telling me that is a story _no one_ would believe!”

“Then this is me coming to you as your boyfriend, not your damn employee!” Michael said in a strained voice, trying to control himself. Geoff was unbelievably stubborn when it came to arguments and it seemed like no matter how much logic Michael threw his way, the idiot couldn’t stop thinking with his emotions. Though now it’d seemed the tables had turned, given that Michael was the one arguing with non-substantial evidence.

Geoff winced, and Michael knew he’d hit a little deep. “Michael,” he said soothingly. “What do you want me to do? There’s no body –”

“Not think I’m crazy would be a good start,” Michael spit scathingly. The entire trip here he’d felt Geoff’s doubt hanging over his head and now the older man was looking at him as if he’d suffered a head injury –

Oh… well.

Geoff didn’t know that.

“I don’t think you’re –”

“Oh, plug it,” Michael muttered, pushing past the tattooed man and storming towards the mine to finally start some work. He barely got a step further from Geoff before his ankle finally wavered and gave out. He tilted to the side before beginning to fall to the ground, arms flying out to catch himself, but it was unnecessary. Geoff’s hands were circled around his upper arms in an instant, stopping him in midair and steadying him upright in one fluid motion.

“What’s wrong?” Geoff asked immediately, arms still firmly gripping his biceps. “Is it your leg or did you hit your head?”

It was said in a half-hearted joking tone, even as the tattooed man spun him around to face the redhead, but Michael could only smile shakily. “Well, I told you that the thing kicked my ass.”

Geoff frowned, unhappy with that answer. He held a large, warm palm to Michael’s forehead. “Did you hit your head?” he asked, and the knowing lilt to his voice made Michael’s hackles rise.

“I know what you’re thinking,” Michael warned, ducking out from under the other’s hand. “I didn’t fucking imagine it, Geoff. Just _listen_ to me.”

“I’m listening, Michael, and it’s beginning to sound like you’ve got a concussion,” Geoff said, ushering the younger the opposite direction – towards the city.

Michael paled, digging his feet into the dirt and bringing them to a halt. “Oh, no. No, no, no. I miss an entire day of work and I will catch unbelievable amounts of shit for it,” he said quickly.

“When did you hit your head?” Geoff asked, ignoring all of what he’d just said.

“When the thing fucking dropped me,” Michael growled.

“What?”

“I fucking killed his ass, but he was like twice my size!” Michael said defensively. He bit his lip as Geoff continued to look at him with suspicion. “I – I didn’t hit my head,” he lied.

“You just said – God, you’re stupid. C’mon. We’re going back home so you can get your head checked by Ryan. They should be getting back soon.”

“Oh, great,” Michael groaned. “An entire day. My asshole is going to be wide enough to fit three dicks in after they’re done with me.”

“You say that like it isn’t already,” Geoff smirked.

“Shut the fuck up,” Michael replied, reluctantly allowing himself to be steered back towards the city. “It’s not funny. It’s either going to end with me doing some weird, kinky sexual favor for five different guys or me doing _actual_ hard physical labor.”

“Well, which one would you prefer?”

Michael thought about it for a minute. “Depends who’s asking for what sexual favor. If it’s you, Ryan, or Gavin, I would rather plow fields for a week straight than owe any of you a favor in bed.”

“Fair enough,” Geoff laughed. After a second, he sobered. “If you have a concussion and are hallucinating, I think they’ll forgive you.”

“I’m not hallucinating,” Michael sniffed.

Geoff made a noise that sounded like vague agreement and continued to guide Michael forward rather forcefully with a hand on the redhead’s shoulder.

“I’m not hallucinating,” Michael repeated. “If there wasn’t a monster, how would I have gotten the head injury? Huh?”

“Well, by the way you’re limping, if I had to guess: after realizing you were extremely late, you were running to catch up, fell, and hit your head,” Geoff said thoughtfully. Michael bit back a growl. That sounded plausible. Damn him.

“Okay, well, that’s definitely not what happened,” Michael said stoutly. “I’m not clumsy like Gavin.” _At least he doesn’t think I’m lying anymore._

Geoff didn’t say anything as he continued to gently push him along the path, the sound of their feet scuffing along the tightly-packed dirt loud in the silence that settled along the forest. It was as if the trees were holding their collective breath, an unnerving realization causing Michael’s breath to catch. Ever since the encounter with the pigman, Michael hadn’t heard a single bird chirping, not a single melodic tune carried through the branches of the trees by a breeze.

He opened his mouth to tell this to Geoff, but closed it after a moment of doubt. He narrowed his eyes at nothing in particular, a bitter thought throwing a taste of metal on his tongue.

_He probably wouldn’t believe me about that, either._

\---

“And there was just nothing there?” Gavin wheezed, the words barely understandable through his giggling. He clutched at his stomach, bent over slightly as Geoff watched with an annoyed expression.

“No,” Geoff answered, shaking his head and steepling his hands in thought.

“It’s not funny, Gav,” Jack said with vague irritation. He smacked his cup upside down on the table but wasn’t fast enough to beat Ray in the impromptu party game. Cursing, he watched with a childish pout as Ray grinned cheekily and swept the winnings into his quickly growing pile. “Oh, fuck you, Ray.”

“Yes, please,” Ray sang, setting up the next round. “In or out, Jack?”

After a moment of deliberation, Jack said, “I’m in.” There was a pause. “Jackass.”

“It’s pretty funny, I think,” Gavin said happily, leaning back in the couch and crossing his ankles on the table where the rest of the boys were playing Cups, save for Ryan and Michael, who were both in the kitchen of Geoff’s home. “The git skips an entire day doing God knows what and then gets screwed over when you call him on his bluff.”

Geoff frowned, unease nipping at his gut. He hadn’t exactly called Michael out; in fact, the redhead had been persistent to show Geoff the body of the so-called monster. The more he thought about it, the more concerned he became that Michael had really hurt his head. That or the dumbass had suddenly turned into a much more skilled liar.

“Thanks again you guys for finishing today,” Geoff sighed, shaking the foreboding feeling from his mind and looking at his boyfriends in earnest. “I think we might be able to take tomorrow off.”

“Well, Geoff,” Ray laughed. “Most of the stacks in the chest were yours. The anger fueled you.”

“Maybe we should get you angry before each mining day,” Gavin said contemplatively.

“I think you definitely shouldn’t,” Geoff said firmly. “There’s at least two new ulcers that’ve formed in my stomach lining.”

“In addition to the one from last week, when Gavin didn’t show up to Game Night for three hours?” Jack asked.

“Not showing up to work is rage-inducing and faintly worrisome,” Geoff stated. “Not showing up to Game Night is a different level of fear.”

“You’re the one who fed me the alcohol through a tube the night before,” Gavin replied in an acidic tone. “Excuse the hell out of me for trying to sleep it off.”

“I wouldn’t have cared, had you tried to sleep it off in your house,” Geoff shot back. “And not in the tree between Jack and Michael’s house.”

“The branch to get down broke –”

Geoff laughed at Gavin’s flustered response. “Right. That or you just forgot how you’d gotten up there in the first place,” he ruffled Gavin’s spiky hair. “Do it again, and I’m locking you inside your house and never letting you out.”

“May have to include Michael in that penalty, too,” Ryan said suddenly from the doorway, causing all four men’s heads to turn. A deep frown was etched on his face, one that made Geoff’s stomach clench. “I don’t know what’s wrong with the three of them, but the lads can officially be labeled accident-prone.”

Ray sputtered in indignation. “How am I included in that?”

“You almost nailed yourself in the back of the head on an upswing with a pickaxe not five hours ago,” Jack pointed out, and though it was an exaggeration, his tone still had a threatening edge to it.

Ray geared up for a sharp retort, but Geoff cut him off. “Well?” he asked Ryan, glancing pointedly over the blond’s shoulder.

“Concussion and a sprained ankle,” Ryan said, shaking his head. He walked in and plopped down on the couch next to Ray. The game instantly stopped and waited for Ryan to finish. “He’s going to be fine, of course. No one’s ever died from a sprain.”

“Seriously?” Gavin squawked. He looked somewhat impressed. “Alright… so that definitely lands him on the top of the clumsy list, right?”

“Yes,” Geoff affirmed, standing up from the couch. Ryan relaxed into his warm spot. “I’ll be right back,” he said before pushing open the door to the kitchen.

Despite knowing that he only came in to talk to Michael privately, Geoff pretended to make himself a glass of water. He spotted the redhead still sitting on the counter where Ryan had most likely made him sit and withstand a thorough, painstaking examination since the idiot refused to answer even the most basic questions. Rolling his eyes, he reached up to open the cabinet and take out a cup.

“Stop looking at me like that,” Geoff told him.

“Well then, stop forcing creepy-cow lovers on me and calling it a medical exam,” Michael countered, miffed.

“He said you had a concussion,” Geoff said, the disapproving note in his tone making Michael visibly stiffen.

“Don’t start,” Michael said tiredly, leaning away from Geoff. “Ryan already gave me a surprisingly large earful. Also – he half believes me, so you can fucking suck it.”

Geoff looked at him, surprised. “He what?”

“There’s a big bruise on the _top_ of my head,” Michael said smugly. “How could I’ve possibly tripped and hit the top of my head?”

“I don’t know – forward momentum into a tree or something?” Geoff guessed half-heartedly.

Michael’s self-satisfied expression dropped into an annoyed one. “No,” he said blandly. “There would be scratches from the bark.”

Geoff switched topics. “Did Ryan wrap your ankle for you?”

“Yeah, ever since Gavin fucked up and wrapped the wrong fucking broken finger, Ryan’s taken it upon himself to start playing Doctor,” Michael said. “He also physically forced two pills down my throat while asking me what time it was when I left my house. And then he yelled at me to stop avoiding his questions.”

“You _were_ avoiding his questions,” Geoff pointed out.

“Not those ones!” Michael said. “His stupid fucking Doctor Ryan act was pointless, I was fine to start with. The only thing that matters is that there’s a new mob roaming around, and no one seems to want to believe me.”

Geoff sighed and set his empty cup on the counter before moving to stand in front of Michael. The younger refused to meet his eyes, instead staring unhappily at a point off to his side, but didn’t resist as Geoff gently wormed his way between the redhead’s thighs.

“Quit making that face,” Geoff softly berated, smiling. Using two fingers under Michael’s chin, he turned the redhead’s face towards him and tilted it up so that he was forced to look into Geoff’s eyes. “It’ll get stuck that way and let’s be honest… it’s not exactly your charming personality that keeps us coming back for more.”

Michael grinned ruefully and smacked at him. “You’re being a real jackass today,” Michael informed him. As he continued to look into Geoff’s gaze, Michael’s brown eyes seemed to wash gray with a somber mood. He licked his lips. “Geoff, I wasn’t kidding about today.”

“I know,” Geoff said soothingly, raising a hand and petting Michael’s hair. He quickly retracted his hand when the redhead flinched. “Oh, sorry – forgot.”

Michael stuck out his lower lip in a dejected frown, crossing his arms over his chest and avoided Geoff’s gaze. Leaning forward with a smirk, he licked up the redhead’s chin and ran his tongue along the inside of Michael’s enticing, pink lower lip. He kept his eyes half-open to watch Michael’s rather cute reaction of blushing and squirming as he sucked the lip into his mouth, nipping and toying with it as he clasped it between his teeth, just barely biting down.

It seemed to take Michael a moment to properly process Geoff’s teasing. He caved after two long seconds of holding his breath, leaning forward to close the gap and connecting their mouths in a slow, passionate kiss. Geoff grinned against his lips when he felt Michael’s tongue rebelliously brush up against his.

“Stop making out,” a voice barked, causing Michael to jump back. Ray was grinning from the doorway. “Not on the counter, at least. We make _food_ there, not love.”

“We don’t make love period,” Michael quipped.

“Yeah, Ray, it’s called _fucking_ ,” Geoff informed him, remaining in Michael’s personal space.

“Yeah, well, keep the _fucking_ off the kitchen counters,” Ray said with a grin, uncrossing his arms and walking into the kitchen. Geoff gave Michael’s cheek one last peck before separating from the younger completely. Michael gave Ray a dirty look before hopping off the counter. He stumbled slightly and Geoff habitually reached out to steady him, gripping the back of his white tee shirt and setting him back on his feet.

“Go sit down, moron,” Geoff told him, directing him towards the door. Michael crinkled his nose at him in a familiar sneer, causing Geoff to grimace. Nostril Flare No. 2. “Oh, god – you’re taking after Gavin. Please, for the love of God, just go sit down.”

Michael rolled his eyes but sauntered off.

“And not next to Gavin!” Ray yelled after him.

\---

Naturally, Ryan was in charge of any medical injuries, so that night it was he who was given the duty to wake Michael every few hours. Ryan didn’t keep him up for long, only asking a few brisk questions, such as if he knew what day it was or where they were, but after the drowsy redhead correctly answered each question, Ryan allowed him to fall back into peaceful slumber with a shake of the head. He tried to avoid waking Jack, if he could, but the bearded man always seemed half-awake when Ryan came in the room.

He walked onto the front porch of Jack’s house stretching his arms above his head, yawning. It was a chilly outside, a pleasant breeze drifting through the city and raising goosebumps on Ryan’s tanned arms. It was a exquisite night, the light of the moon casting an eerie but angelic glow upon each of the Hunters’ houses. Geoff’s mansion in particular was looking oddly unearthly, leaving Ryan to appreciate it with a slight trickle of disquiet. He kept his eyes open and sharp as he scanned the open space between all of their houses, but the wool was clear of unwelcomed visitors, presumably kept at bay by the light of the torches lined up as perimeter.

He rested his arms against the railing, a faint squeak from the tension of the wood the only sound in the utter silence of the city. There was a feeling deep in his chest that he couldn’t shake that plagued him and it had been there for hours – ever since Michael had opened his damn mouth.

Ryan was a lot more visual than he was given credit for. Known for his craftiness and clever problem-solving technique, it was assumed that he was one of the more brainy of the six. Ray, however, tended to be the one that noticed the most while walking on trails, the one that spotted minerals that the others might’ve missed, the one that could read his lovers like an open book. While Ryan was not quite on par with Ray’s sharp eyes, the blond still remained extremely perceptive.

He’d noticed for a while that Michael was oddly jumpy, and Ray had told him in confidence that it was usually when he was without his glasses. They didn’t ask – they didn’t have to. Ryan had known what it was and he hadn’t thought it needed addressing just yet.

But, once again demonstrating his inferiority to Ray in terms of observational skill, it took Ryan almost an entire year to understand that Michael wasn’t simply _jumpy_ , though he was certainly not the calmest member of the team.Ryan was late to realize that those little flashes of light in the corner of his vision, those odd lines of mirage-like waves that briefly encompassed his vision – they all were in synch with Michael’s slight flinches, with his furrowed brows, and even with his barely audible gasps.

Even Ryan could connect the following dots. He was seeing whatever was frightening Michael – and it only happened when _he_ didn’t have his glasses on, either. Ryan rarely wore the damn things anyway. They were a nuisance and a liability. Ryan figured he was just lucky that he was able to function properly without them, unlike Ray or Michael, both of whom only a step above blind.

He’d never thought to ask Ray if he saw the same things. In fact, Ryan had just figured that he and Michael were suffering from some sort of stir-crazy affect after a long stretch of working in the mines. Ryan much preferred to be herding cattle, and he knew Michael would rather hunt or be on patrol. To be honest, none of them liked mining. It was probably their least favorite task, but it was necessary to keep their resources well-stocked.

He was excited to have a day off, though. He grinned into the chilly night air, thrilled to be able to not only sleep in, but to also spend an entire day doing nothing but spending quality time with his boys. They’d needed it for a while now – Geoff was a real hardass when it came to their jobs, but unlike the lads, Ryan agreed with most of his rules. Ryan understood that as the leader, Geoff was in charge of making sure their small city thrived.

Thrive it did – the city was looking better than ever. Even in the dim light of the torches, Ryan could see how well-maintained it was, how much it’d grown from the tiny shack that was now his house. Kung-Fu House had homed all six of them at one point in time and, well… Ryan preferred not to remember those days all that clearly. Tough times it’d been, when they barely had enough food to last the winter and when sharing a bed hadn’t been so pleasant as it was now. Thankfully, however, they all had a bed in their own house, though Gavin was notorious for sneaking over to Michael’s in the dead of night. Ray was similarly guilty of stealing a spot in Jack’s bed, though he had a much better reason: his house was definitely on the shabby side.

Even as he looked at it, the small, dirt building seemed to shudder under his gaze. He shook his head to himself – though his house was not quite as extravagant as Geoff’s, Ryan’s, at least, had crafting table.

As he stared thoughtfully at Ray’s home, something purple seemed to flicker in his peripheral vision. He looked sharply towards the sudden disturbance, muscles tensing is preparation, but even as his eyes scanned the bridge, nothing seemed amiss. Soft sloshes of something moving in the water were coming from under the bridge, but Ryan knew without looking that it was the small herd of sheep that tended to get stuck under there. He sighed, knowing he’d have to unstick them tomorrow, and relaxed slightly. Something, however, continued to raise the hairs on the back of his neck. He stood stock-still, holding his breath and gripping the railing so tightly that it began to creak warningly.

Minutes passed.

Nothing moved, nothing made a sound, but Ryan’s nerves didn’t settle. Making a calculated decision, he released the wood under his palm and stepped away, carefully walking down the front porch steps of Jack’s annoyingly _loud_ house. Each oakwood stair squeaked noisily as his weight landed on it, and Ryan held onto a distant hope that the sound scared away whatever was lurking by the stilts of Jack’s house.

Acutely aware that his inventory was dreadfully empty, Ryan was sorely wishing he had some sort of weapon on him as he got to ground level. Even a block would’ve been better than his bare hands. As it was, he couldn’t very well reach down and punch the dirt, so he crept around the front left stilt with determination.

There was nothing.

Ryan frowned and stood up straight. _Nothing_? Not even a wolf? He didn’t understand. Something was here – he could feel it. Blinking and studying the crater that sat directly under the belly of Jack’s house, Ryan unclenched his hands from the corner of the stilt and leaned back. Slightly confused and agitated, he shook his head and turned back towards the steps leading up to Jack’s porch.

He didn’t know what made him look over at Michael’s house. His gaze was drawn there automatically, narrowing when something caught his stare and held it. His throat went dry when his mind finally registered what it was.

He crossed the gap between the two houses with speed he didn’t know he possessed. The rushing in his ears drowned out all else, his focus mind too fixated on the front right wall of Michael’s house to give heed to anything that might’ve been creeping up on him. Fortunately, he seemed to be alone.

He hadn’t been a few minutes ago, however.

Five large chunks of wood had been gouged from the structure, distinctly resembling something like a human hand, but it was large – almost the size of Ryan’s head. He ran his fingers along the edges of the inch-deep gashes, startled by the warmth the oak was giving off.

Fresh. It was fresh.

He backed away from the scene with his breath caught in his throat. His hands shook as he quickly wiped them on his pants as if they’d caught something from the vicious mauling. A long moment was spent staring in horror before he finally got his feet to move.

To Geoff. He had to get to Geoff.

\---

Geoff’s day off was ruined even before it started.

Ryan came to see him around four. His question of why the blond was up so damned early was answered immediately when Ryan burst in with words practically dribbling from his vapid mouth, his face pale and eyes wide. When Michael’s name fell from his lips, Geoff was concerned that the redhead’s head injury had worsened, but soon Ryan was dragging him physically from the room and to Michael’s _house_ instead. Geoff’s confusion only lasted a few short moments – ending abruptly when the sight of Michael’s mangled house was presented to him.

“What the hell?”

“I know –”

“Ryan, what the _hell_?”

“Keep your voice down, Geoff –”

“What is this from? What did this?” Geoff demanded, turning to Ryan. “Did you see – ?”

“Yea – well, no, it happened a few minutes ago,” Ryan said hurriedly. “I don’t know what happened. I was on Jack’s porch and had a weird feeling.”

There was a mutual understanding between the two of them.

“An Enderman,” Geoff breathed. He glanced around, but if Ryan and him were still standing in the open air and having a conversation, the danger had already passed. “Everyone’s inside, right?”

“I was with Jack and Michael in Jack’s house,” Ryan said.

“And Gavin?” Geoff asked, narrowing his eyes.

“Haven’t seen him so I’m going to assume he’s sleeping. Same for Ray,” Ryan said before the Geoff could ask.

“Okay, can you check on them?” Geoff said nervously. “I’ll go talk to Jack.”

“Okay, and ask Michael what day of the week it is while you’re in there,” Ryan called over his shoulder as he began to jog to Gavin’s house.

Geoff stared after him with a vaguely bewildered expression before shaking it off and practically running to Jack’s house. He thundered up the steps – probably scaring the shit out of the two currently sleeping inside – and threw open the door.

The bed tucked in the corner was occupied, but within an instant, Jack was springing from the mattress and shielding the rest of the bed from view. His boxers were halfway down his hips and his hair looked as if someone had taken a rake to it. It would’ve been a humorous image had Geoff’s bloodstream not been laced with pure adrenaline.

“Jack – ugh, you – put on some pants,” Geoff hissed, before remembering that he was supposed to be waking Michael anyway. As Jack hurried to dress himself, Geoff gently shook Michael’s shoulder until the near-comatose redhead finally stirred. His half-dead eyes glared at Geoff as if expecting someone else, but once recognition set in, he looked startled.

“Geoff?” he croaked, blinking forcefully as if trying to brush off the sleepiness. “What’s wrong?”

Opening his mouth, Geoff inhaled and lost speed immediately. Faltering, he said, “Nothing, I just need to talk to Jack for a minute.”

Michael’s brow furrowed and he started sluggishly pushing himself up. “Bullshit. What’s happened?”

“Nothing,” Geoff said firmly, standing up and pushing Michael back into the bed by the back of the neck. “Go back to sleep, dumbass… Oh, wait! What is today?”

“Friday?”

“Well, now it’s Saturday,” Geoff said. “But yeah. Okay, bed. Sleep. Jack will be back in a few minutes.”

Under normal circumstances, Michael would’ve stubbornly followed him out of the house and demand information, but a concussed Michael only had two switches:  obnoxiously paranoid and utterly lethargic. Luckily, he seemed to be the latter at the moment and simply fell back against the bed with only a faint grumble of protest.

Geoff ran his hand through his hair in a fidgety habit as he gestured for Jack to lead the way out of the small house. Right there in the doorway, he almost melted into a puddle of relief and love for Jack when the bearded man handed him an iron sword, giving his hand a lingering squeeze before holding the door open for Geoff.

“What happened?” Jack asked the moment the door clicked shut. He wielded his iron sword with a menacing air, hazel eyes already scanning the area for the looming threat. Geoff, meanwhile, simply put his weapon in the closest inventory spot and searched the city floor for Ryan. The blond was just emerging from Ray’s house, his complexion looking marginally healthier.

“Good, both fine and sleeping,” Ryan said directly as soon as they were within earshot. His blue eyes were raking their surroundings in a compulsive pattern every few seconds. Geoff bit his lip. He much rather gather all five of his boys and hole them up in his house for the night – and every night from now on – but he knew that would bring an entirely different slew of issues that he didn’t want to deal with at the moment. Ignoring his strong urge to mother the living shit out of his boyfriends, Geoff forced himself to lead the other two Gents back to his house. Ray, Gavin, and Michael were experienced fighters, experienced _survivors._ They knew how to fight for their lives; they did it every damn day.

“So what was it?” Jack said in a hushed whisper, and even that echoed in the vastness of Geoff’s house.

“We’ll show you in the morning,” Ryan said, a hint of sarcasm in his words sharpening the tone.

“It was an Enderman,” Geoff said, though his sentence wavered with a hint of doubt. The marks had looked like something an Enderman could inflict, but it was so out of character for one to randomly appear and begin marking up spots in the wood. He tacked on a hasty, “We think.”

“An Enderman?” Jack said hollowly. “I didn’t hear anything.”

“Kinda hard to hear when you’re sleeping,” Geoff said.

“I’ve barely slept all night,” Jack said roughly, and Geoff knew he wasn’t exaggerating. He petted the bearded man’s upper arm in a quiet apology. “I would’ve heard something.”

“We’re going to start perimeter again,” Geoff said shaking his head. He could feel the other two’s mood drop at least four notches. “Sorry, guys. We’re also breaking out the diamond sword again, so there’s that.”

Ryan grinned. “Gavin’ll like that,” he said.

“Right,” Geoff said, though the information did nothing to settle his anxiety. “Gavin’s still not going to have watch duties, not after he let a creeper nearly blow up the city. He can keep Ray company, though.”

“I’m sure both of them will love that,” Jack said with a roll of his eyes.

“Ryan, you said you were on the porch?” Geoff said, turning to the blond and hoping for a better explanation of what had happened. By the look in Ryan’s eyes, however, he wasn’t going to get one.

“I didn’t see anything,” Ryan said, anticipating Geoff’s line of questioning. “I – I thought I saw something down by the bridge, but it was nothing, and when I turned around…” He seemed at a loss for words.

“What did you see by the bridge?” Jack asked.

“Not an Enderman, that’s for sure,” Ryan said glibly.

“Well, what happened?” Jack demanded, growing impatient. “If you didn’t see an Enderman –?”

“Something scratched the hell out of the front door of Michael’s house,” Geoff said, realizing Jack had yet to be filled in.

“ _What_?”

“Not literally his front door,” Geoff said. “We can replace the wood later... you know how Endermen can linger. Sorry to ruin everyone’s Saturday morning, but we’re up the rest of the morning and keeping watch. After today, normal patrol should be fine.”

“Honestly, I didn’t stand much of a chance falling asleep, anyway,” Ryan said, shrugging good-naturedly. Geoff gave him a thankful smile and a chaste kiss on the mouth. Ryan snatched up his hand and gave it a firm squeeze.

“Sorry, guys,” Geoff said again, chest feeling slightly empty with guilt. He wished he were overreacting, but the possible presence of an Enderman left no room for Geoff to consider anyone’s feelings. It hurt to so carelessly throw them to the side, even if it was for their safety.

“It’s no problem, Geoff,” Jack said, shaking his head. He looked tired but resigned. “We’ve had worse.”

Geoff gave him a grateful smile, half-lidded and probably extremely dopey, but Jack beamed at him all the same. Ryan clapped him on the back and pressed a kiss to his temple before leaving out the front door.

Geoff didn’t miss the way they both took out their swords the moment the door began to swing closed.

\---

Gavin loved his hair, he _did,_ but it was going to be torn out in ample chunks soon.

By the time noon rolled around, Geoff, Ryan, and Jack hadn’t moved from their separate perches, effectively ruining what was supposed to their _relaxing_ day off.

Keeping that in mind, it didn’t stop Gavin from trying to enjoy his own personal day off. Backed by a twitchy Ray and a slightly inarticulate Michael, he initially wanted to have an archery shoot off, as he still vowed to win against Ray and his irritatingly good aim one day. Once he caught sight of Ray’s jittery trigger fingers, Gavin had promptly scrapped the idea. Then he considered having a short swim in the pool behind Geoff’s house, but judging by the dulled, morbid state of Michael’s deadened gaze, he feared the redhead might just sink under the water and never resurface.

Playing in the middle of the icon it is, then.

As he sat with the other two in the middle of the square at half-past one, Gavin found himself in an odd position; Michael was always quick to take the pretend lead with the Lads, but everyone there knew that Ray was the one calling the shots. He was far more subtle at it, however, and was apparently content to let Michael stew in his delusion. Today, both Ray and Michael were uncharacteristically reserved, leaving Gavin in a rather awkward spot in between, free to take the reign. He had no idea what to do with it.

At this point, he was considering making them dress up and call him Daddy.

“Michael, c’mon,” Gavin whined, shoving at the redhead’s leg until it flopped over motionlessly. Michael had taken to spreading out on his back across the woolen ground almost twenty minutes ago and had stopped responding the past ten. “It’s your turn.”

“I don’t want to play your damn game,” Michael said shortly. From the way he was squinting when he talked, Gavin could tell he had a headache. Grumbling, he left the asshole alone.

“Ray?” Gavin said expectantly, looking pointedly at the pile of leaves between the three of them. Sitting cross-legged on either side was Ray and him, but the former wasn’t even paying attention. Frustrated, Gavin threw a twig at him. It hit the brunette’s scruffy chin and made him jump.

“What?” Ray snapped irritably, rubbing the spot.

“Don’t ‘what’ me like I’ve interrupted you doing something important. Now pick a damn leaf.”

Muttering something foul under his breath, Ray obediently plucked one from the pile. He glanced between it and Gavin’s face for a moment before his hand suddenly tightened into a fist and crunched the leave.

Instead of giving the prick the reaction he was gunning for, Gavin simply glared. “You’re finding a replacement for that, you know.”

Ray raised an eyebrow in challenge, but that was as far as the argument got. Gavin looked up at the distraction that came in the form of a muscular blond, the sight of Ryan’s warm smile rapidly alleviating Gavin’s stress. Before Ryan even reached them, Gavin was already feeling the tension leave his shoulders.

“Hey, Rye-Bread,” Gavin called fondly. “How’s life up on the roofs?”

Ryan gave him a wry look. “Fantastic,” he said dryly. “Geoff is going nuts because there’s a rouge skeleton roaming somewhere outside of perimeter; there are dead animals all around the city.” He shook his head. “How’s life here with the mentally incapacitated?”

Gavin sneered. “Top,” he answered. Ryan laughed and took him by surprise by sitting down cross-legged next to Ray. He raised an eyebrow at the pile of leaves and twigs between the four of them. “Playing leaves?”

“We were,” Gavin said, shooting Ray a dirty look. “Until we somehow ended up a leaf short. Now we can’t play.”

“Oh,” Ryan chuckled. Gavin got the feeling that Ryan had been watching them sit in boredom for some time now. “Well… why don’t you take a swim?”

“I would, but I’m fairly sure Michael would drown and I’m not feeling up for rescuing his ass,” Gavin said waspishly.

Michael’s chest rose and fell with a sigh.

“Hm. Well…” Ryan trailed off, clearly at a loss for ideas.

“You know how I’d _like_ to spend it,” Gavin said slowly.

Ryan knew where he was going with this, but he still asked a polite, “And how would you like to spend it?”

“With my boyfriends!” Gavin practically exploded. Ryan pursed his lips. “Having a lazy day inside, cuddling, _having sex._ Anything but this. I’d rather be _working_ than this.”

“Shh,” Ryan said hastily, glancing around furtively. “Geoff might hear you and take it to heart.” He snickered at Gavin’s sour expression. “You’re such a whiner, Gav. Smack some floaties on these two and go swimming.”

And with a firm, resolute pat on his shoulder, Ryan was standing and walking back towards Geoff. Gavin didn’t understand how they weren’t going crazy up there. They had nothing to do, nor anyone to entertain them, as the Gents’ stakeout posts where too far apart for proper conversation.

He didn’t know what had their fur so ruffled anyway. He knew Enderman were scary as all get out, but the scratches marring the front of Michael’s house realistically meant nothing. Patrol and keeping guard was pointless now. The danger had gone and passed; Gavin didn’t know what was making Geoff so paranoid, but it was really putting a damper on their day off.

“Gavin.”

“Hm…?”

“ _Gavin._ ”

Gavin was too preoccupied with glaring at Ryan’s back to hear Michael calling him the first few times. On the third, however, he shook himself out of the slight trace and turned to face Michael with a half-annoyed expression. “What?”

“I asked you what kind of damn leaf was it. Oak or spruce?” Michael repeated in a pissy tone.

“It was… Birch, actually,” Gavin said, examining the crushed remains. He looked up at Michael suspiciously. “Why? You don’t have a stack of different _leaves,_ do you?”

“Of course not, I’m not a fucking freak like you,” Michael muttered, climbing strenuously to his feet. He groaned when he was finally upright.

“Then where are you going?” Gavin asked. Ray was frowning heavily across from him.

“If it gets you to shut the hell up, I’m gonna get you a goddamn leaf. Plus it gives me something to do,” Michael said, stretching his left leg.

“I’m coming, too,” Ray said, standing up.

“Uh – neither of you are going,” Gavin said, frowning. “Are you mental, deaf, or blind? Because you have to be one of the three to not know that Geoff is going to stop you the second you try and pass the treeline.”

“Birchwood trees aren’t too far,” Michael pointed out.

Gavin’s frown deepened. Michael was still squinting at him. “You bonked your head and have lost your mind,” he decided.

“Maybe a little,” he heard Michael mutter, though Gavin had a feeling it wasn’t meant for his ears. Louder, he said, “Coming with?”

“No,” Gavin said as if it were obvious. “I’m not an idiot. Getting my ass beat doesn’t sound like fun.”

Michael shrugged and started walking away, Ray following close behind. Gavin glanced up to the Gents, but they were all facing different directions, away from the icon and instead keep surveillance on the paths to the city. Half wishing that they’d be caught before they were able to leave, Gavin scrambled to his feet and jogged after them. They passed the treeline between Jack’s house and Michael’s.

“It’s not as if we’re doing anything _bad_ ,” Ray said shiftily, his words clearly just for show. Gavin shoved him gently in the shoulder.

“Donut,” he chided. “Geoff’s going to skin us.”

“Geoff’s gonna skin _Michael_ ,” Ray said. “The person who had the idea.”

“Geoff doesn’t kick men when they’re down,” Gavin shook his head.

“How am I a man down?” Michael said, leading the way in the foliage. He parted the thick clump of branches for Ray and Gavin to walk through and skipped ahead after so he could once again be the leader.

“It’s like a concussion means nothing to him,” Gavin said out of the corner of his mouth to Ray, who nodded.

Michael punched him lightly in the shoulder. “Shut up, Gavin. If we’re judging based on mental capacities, then you’ve been a man down since you came out of the womb.”

Ray laughed, causing Michael to smile at his own words. Gavin rolled his eyes and smothered a grin.

“I hate both of you,” Gavin said affectionately.

The walked in silence for a few minutes, Michael backing off slightly to allow Gavin to navigate. As he stepped forward to guide them, he noticed Michael glancing around fervently, fingers tapping nervously against his thigh as he walked. Hit with the sudden urge to ask if Michael had a weapon, Gavin sealed his mouth shut. He felt no sense of danger, but Michael’s sudden paranoid behavior set him on edge, even if he knew it was due to the head injury he’d received.

“Okay, the Birch wood is through here, I think,” Gavin said, chewing on his lower lip. He knew Achievement City better than his bones, but he wasn’t the best with directions. Looking at Ray, he lowly asked, “Right?”

Ray stared at him, alarmed. “How do you not know, Gavin?” he demanded.

“I didn’t say I didn’t know,” he said hastily. Glaring at Michael, whose eyes were skimming the forest, he said, “Weren’t you the one who volunteered to get the leaf?”

“Why is this even such a big deal?” Michael groaned. “I just wanted to walk around a bit –”

“We could’ve done that in the city!”

“– and this was a good excuse to leave!” Michael finished loudly, almost yelling over Gavin. “This day off _sucks,_ Gav.”

“Well, excuse me,” Gavin snapped. “It’s not my house that got buggered up.”

“Yes, Gavin,” Michael said with biting sarcasm. “Because it’s completely my fault something attacked my house.”

“It wasn’t a something,” Gavin said, rolling his eyes. “It was an Enderman, most likely. You’re not seriously going to try and blame it on whatever rat-man you made up yesterday.”

“It was a pigman,” Michael growled. “And I didn’t make it up. Don’t start with me, asshole.”

“You’re still trying to keep up the lie?” Gavin asked in disbelief. He pretended not to notice Michael’s shoulders jerk in a spooked jump, the redhead’s brown eyes darting around their surroundings warily. “It’s – it’s not working. In fact, you just sound crazy.”

“I’m not crazy,” Michael snarled, the ferocity in the words causing Gavin to physically startle. Michael blinked and recoiled, face flushing red in embarrassment. “I’m not crazy,” he repeated in a calmer voice, though the statement quivered slightly. “God, I’m fucking sick of you and Geoff telling me I’m either hallucinating or making it up. Gavin – you know me. Why would I even bother to create some crackpot story as an excuse for being late? If I was late or sleeping in, I would just _say_ that.”

Gavin swallowed, throat dry. He stared ahead of him to avoid the look that Ray was giving him. He did – he knew Michael and the rest of the boys incredibly well. Better than he knew himself, even. Their traits, their little quirks, their bodies, and even their way of thinking – all of it Gavin had made the conscious effort to catalogue and memorize. He could tell when one of them was lying when he was really paying attention, though Gavin admittedly had a rather oblivious approach to life. He knew that if he wanted to, however, he could read each one of his lovers like a book.

And right now, Michael’s book frightened him.

Either Michael had suffered an actual head trauma or he’d been attacked by something that sounded like a nightmare. Gavin didn’t want either one to be true. There were only so many times one could be concussed before permanent damage started to develop.

“Well then, it sounds like you really hit your head,” Gavin said stiffly.

Michael groaned in exacerbation, tossing his hands up in obvious displeasure. “Fine, believe what you want,” he said, teeth grit. “I killed it anyway, so we don’t have to worry about it.”

“The glorious savior,” Gavin rolled his eyes.

Michael punched his arm again.

\---

“Please tell me you’re joking.”

“Nope.”

“But he’s – I mean… you know…”

“Oh yeah. That’s what made it _good,_ Ray.”

“... Gross.”

“ _You’re_ gross.”

“Michael, you think it’s gross, don’t you?”

If he hadn’t been keeping a close watch on the dancing trees around them, Michael would’ve closed his eyes. Or maybe start screaming expletives. As it was, he couldn’t help his pained grimace, the headache pounding behind his eyelids beginning to distract him.

He loved Gavin and Ray, with all of his heart and all of his soul. Despite what Geoff may say, the role Michael played both in the relationship and as a citizen in Achievement City was the protector. Warrior, perhaps, was a better word. His job and passion was built around fighting – what better way to release the anger? – and a neat, healthy channel for his violent urges was a convenient side-bonus. While not completely powerless, his boys needed him to slay monsters or hunt for food, though Ryan and Gavin often aided him in the latter. He was ultimately a rather unessential member of the relationship, which was why he’d appointed himself the solider-position early on. He guarded his boys. He loved them to death – quite literally – and would do anything imaginable for them.

But in that moment, he hated them for the conversation they were having.

He had better things to worry about.

Early that morning, he’d realized that he was missing his glasses. At this point, he’d’ve liked to only have his blurry, shitty eyesight to worry about. Not the vibration of the pines around him, the heat seemingly wafting from nowhere and everywhere at once, or the intense smell of burnt _something._ Hair? Wood? Michael couldn’t tell. It burned his nose, whatever it was, and it didn’t appear to have a source.

So he was either having some severe hallucinations or something was _wrong._

He didn’t dare mention it to Gavin and Ray as they walked. He’d been holding out hope that they had refrained from judging him, but that had flown out the window the moment Gavin said he sounded crazy.

He then knew immediately that he didn’t have Gavin’s support in the matter.

Despite knowing he hadn’t hurt his head that badly, it still was hindering his thinking. He knew the moment he parted the bushes for Ray that he should’ve been carrying a weapon, but it had been too late to run and get one without either arousing suspicion from the other lads or being noticed by Geoff. Heavily regretting his decision now, Michael was forced to pretend not to be losing his very mind as they went to go clip some fucking Birch leaves.

If they got killed for this, Michael was going to come back and haunt _someone’s_ ass… he just didn’t know who’s yet.

His refusal to partake in what was debatably their nastiest conversation yet led to a slightly awkward pause before the two just moved on to a different topic. When they finally reached the collection of Birch trees a little ways outside of Achievement City, Ray and Gavin were the only two to start climbing and compare leaves. Michael lurked in the separation between biomes, hands tightly clenched on a branch he’d found along the path, keep a careful watch for any large, pink monsters. Even if the dumbasses didn’t believe him, he was going to protect them the best he could.

“Michael, you decide,” Gavin said, hurrying over to the redhead with Ray in tow. They held out two similarly shaped leaves. Michael couldn’t tell the difference between the two.

“They’re both fine,” he answered carelessly, sparing them only a glance before his attention was drawn to a large flash of purplish red light in the far corner of his vision. It disappeared when his eyes moved, but it still caused his heart to palpitate. He swallowed roughly.

“You need to pick one, though,” Gavin insisted.

Without looking down, Michael said, “Ray’s, then.”

Gavin gave a grunt of annoyance as Ray grinned. Crumbling the reject in his fist, Gavin tossed it over his shoulder and glared at the redhead. “You only sided with him because you’re angry with me.”

“I’m not angry at you, dumbass.”

Gavin hummed in obvious disagreement but thankfully let it go, even if he was sporting a faint frown. Ignoring him, Michael looked to Ray. “We leavin’?”

Shooting a smug smirk at Gavin, Ray nodded. “Let’s go.”

Michael pushed them ahead, intending to keep a look out from behind instead of in front. He could feel Gavin’s odd stare the entire walk here and didn’t want the idiot to have any more reason to think he was nuts. He wielded his stick like a dangerous knife as they went, feeling no more threatening than a stuffed animal.

“Do you know what jobs we’re doing tomorrow?” Ray asked a few minutes into the silence.

“I think we’re doing specifics tomorrow,” Gavin said, the term ‘specifics’ referring to the days where they did their originally designated jobs. For Gavin, that would be either building with Geoff, gathering materials, or doing miscellaneous tasks around the city.

Michael perked up at the answer. That meant he would be in charge of gathering food and hunting for stray zombies near town. In other words, it would be an excuse to carry around a weapon in hand – if he was allowed. His heart sank before it had even reached its original place.

“Good,” Ray sighed, stretching an arm over the back of his head. “I hate mining. I’ll leave that bullshit to Jack and Ryan.”

“No one likes it,” Gavin said, shrugging.

Ray frowned and replied with something slightly snippy, but Michael’s attention was abruptly drawn from the conversation when something pink flickered in his vision once again. He flinched, shrinking away out of instinct and tripped clumsily over his feet until completely tipping over. His shoulder collided with the ground as he scrambled back, raising his stick in preparation for a deadly swing, but it wasn’t a pigman – just a simple pig.

Floating about two blocks off the ground and walking backwards.

He stared at it in bewilderment. Chest heaving with what was once panicked breaths, he slowly lowered the jagged branch. The pig was seemingly catatonic, staring straight ahead blankly as its feet made repeated, useless steps, only succeeded in moving backwards.

“Michael?”

He looked up at Gavin’s frightened call. Both him and Ray were hiding behind the nearest tree, peeking over the curve of the trunk with fear clear in their eyes. They weren’t looking at the pig, however.

They were looking at Michael.

“Uh – you… you don’t see that?” Michael said, a desperate note causing the rise and fall of his words to be sharp.

“I see you, cowering on the ground, ready to play piñata with that stick,” Gavin said warily. He glanced at Ray when the younger smacked at him.

“See what?” Ray said in a much kinder tone.

“The – the pig!” Michael sputtered, gesturing angrily. It was clear as day – definitely not a damn apparition. “The fucking moonwalking pig!”

He didn’t see Gavin’s shared glance with Ray, but he damn sure felt it.

“Michael, c’mon, let’s go,” Gavin said softly, stepping out from the tree. “I think you really need to lie down.”

“No, no, no,” Michael ground out, getting to his feet. He was cautious to move closer to the moonwalking pig, but it didn’t seem to be aware of his presence. Creeping closer, he shakily reached out a hand to touch it, but the moment his fingers came within millimeters of its pink skin, it vanished, leaving Michael to grasp at empty air.

He yanked back his hand as if it’d hurt him. Staring at the spot it had been not seconds before, Michael gaped openly, heart pounding in his ears. The only thing to register in his mind was the fleeting thought that poisoned his confidence:

_Maybe I am losing my mind._

A hand resting on his shoulder made him jump. Gavin was peering at him with something like pity. “Michael, there’s nothing there.”

Looking back and forth between Gavin’s face and the spot the pig had been floating, Michael couldn’t find the right words. He felt an odd pull towards apologizing, though for what, he wasn’t sure. He also felt as though he should be running from the spot in which he stood, but that wasn’t right either.

“I – I –” he stuttered, brain jamming up.

Gavin slowly glanced to where the pig had been as if expecting to see something. He shook his head at Michael, befuddled. “There’s nothing there,” he repeated firmly.

“There was! There was a – a pig –”

“Moonwalking?” Ray asked with a raised eyebrow.

Michael flushed, shoving a snickering Gavin away from him. Anger – real, tangible anger – welled inside of his throat and blocked his words from escaping. It was probably for the better – Michael could be a verbally mean son of a bitch if pushed past his limit. He stared at Gavin and Ray in slight betrayal, a hurt edge creeping into his glare.

“Let’s go then,” he snapped, clipping Gavin roughly in the shoulder as made to lead them back to the city.

\---

Michael spent the next few days with his mouth shut.

He didn’t say nor do anything concerning the ‘hallucinations’, but he carefully kept an eye on them. They grew worse, more confrontational and noticeable, each day, though none were as severe as the pigman he’d first encountered that had triggered this whole mess. He saw no mutations of animals, though he did see his fair share of oddities stemming from the various creatures that inhabited Achievement City: a cow phasing through walls; a pig climbing vertically up trees; even a chicken melting into the ground. It was bizarre, and the fact that there was no explanation was even more bewildering.

More concerning than that, however, was the vision of Ray he kept having.

It had taken a long moment of staring to realize that _yeah_ there were two Ray’s standing in front of him. And _yeah_ both of them were moving around. And _yeah._

No one else was seeing it.

Needless to say, Michael was about two ticks away from gouging his eyes out so he wouldn’t have to deal with this anymore.

Ghost Ray hadn’t seemed aware of what was going on around it, face completely stoic and blank. It had wondered around for a few hours before it’d abruptly burst into flames and vanished. Michael had watched with a more or less horrified expression, but when asked what was wrong by Ryan, he’d licked his lips and shook his head. _Nothing, Ryan, nothing’s wrong._

_I’m just going insane, is all._

But he couldn’t admit it aloud. That would be admitting _defeat –_ Michael was a _warrior_ and warriors didn’t crumble so easily to things that weren’t even there. The day he died would be the only time he would confess failure, and he damned sure was going to go out in a glorious flurry of swords and blood – not fucking brought to his knees by a few scary apparitions. He couldn’t bow to this.

In all truthfulness, he was hoping that they would disappear given time, and though it didn’t seem to be happening, Michael was set on ignoring them regardless. Acknowledging or complaining about them would do nothing but further convince the others he was ill.

He was still walking on eggshells with every word. Due to his sneaking suspicion that Gavin had tattled on him the moment they’d come back from the plains, he didn’t dare mention any other of the strange occurrences. It was difficult for him to keep so tight-lipped, but the alternative was much worse.

But on day four, the heat on his back was lifted.

“Alright, we’re doing specifics today,” Geoff announced that morning before the sun had come up, cracking his fingers over his pickaxe. “I’ll be working with Gav and Ryan on Shooting Range – there are some things I’d like to fix. Ray, sorry buddy, but you’re harvesting today. Jack and Michael, you’ll be gathering food. Cows, if you can. We’re running low on beef.”

Michael’s eyebrows shot up in surprise, along with Jack’s. “I’m in the field today?” he said, pleasantly surprised. He’d been delegated to guard duty during the daylight, which was Geoff’s silent way of telling him he wasn’t fit for actual work yet. He’d accepted it without complaint. It was looking like it might’ve paid off as well, because usually it took Geoff a week to untwist his panties and allow one of his boys back into the field after an injury.

Geoff’s scrutinizing gaze cut to him, his eyes searching Michael’s face as if he was reconsidering. Michael cringed, feeling as if he shouldn’t’ve said anything. “Yeah,” Geoff said slowly. “I figured that since you’re so damn antsy all the time, you might as well put that energy into doing something useful.”

Michael couldn’t believe his good fortune. He nodded excitedly, words stumbling over each other in his rush, “Yes, yes, definitely useful, I’m useful.”

Geoff rolled his eyes as the others laughed. Michael smiled sheepishly, rubbing the back of his neck.

“Get to work,” Geoff said, jokingly swatting Gavin and Ryan on the back of the head as a signal for them to follow him. Michael watched them saunter off with a gaping jaw, grinning when Jack slapped him on the butt in a similar beckon. Excitedly following after the bearded man, Michael wasn’t surprised in the slightest to find that there was a new spring in his step. He was quick to pick out his favorite iron sword in Geoff’s vault, one cast with a painless enchantment as a merciful bow to the animals they slaughtered. Jack grabbed a similar one with a ‘J’ engraved the above hilt, in the same spot as Michael’s ‘M’ on his own.

“We’re taking it easy today,” Jack said lightly as they were buffing swords.

Michael shot him a slight glare but restrained himself from saying the bitter words on his tongue. “Right,” he said instead.

“I mean it,” Jack insisted, sheathing his weapon.

“Oh, shut up, Jack,” Michael said irritably, reaching forward to grab one of the iron chest plates hanging from the wall. Jack’s hand on his stopped him, however, and he looked at the bearded man in question.

“Chain-link, today,” Jack said in lieu of an answer.

Michael rolled his eyes and huffed out an angry puff of air. “ _Why_?”

“Because there are plenty of cows back behind Gavin’s house,” Jack replied coolly. “We don’t need to go that far. We wouldn’t even need armor, but the rules are if you’re handling a weapon, you have to have protection.”

Michael ground his teeth together as Jack pushed his hand away and reached up to retrieve two chainmail plates from the highest hook. He handed it to the redhead with a tired expression.

“Stop making that face,” Jack told him. “Do you want a helmet?”

“No,” Michael said sourly. Jack followed his lead and forwent the headgear, instead slipping on the chain-linked boots. Michael did so after a moment of hesitation, the heavy weight of the armor an odd comfort. He stood straight and stretched, grabbing his sword from the ledge he’d placed it on and smoothed it into the holster at his side. He stared thoughtfully at it, thumb stroking the ruby-encrusted hilt with a loose sort of reverence.

“C’mon, grumpy,” Jack said, ruffling Michael’s hair as he walked to the ladder that led back up to the main entrance of Geoff’s house.

Michael climbed after him, their armor clinking in tandem, and once they were near the top, a grin crossed his lips the same moment an idea struck his mind. Playfully, he reached up and pinched Jack’s ass as hard as he could, right where the cheek met the thigh.

The most pained, pathetic yelp blessed his ears and sent him into a fit of giggles as Jack suddenly increased his pace, scrambling off the ladder and onto Geoff’s concrete entrance floor. Michael was wheezing with laughter by the time he finally got to ground level, only to be met with Jack’s very pink expression of indignation.

Jack didn’t speak to him as he led the way out of the city. Michael’s lighthearted mood was darkened when he caught sight of his vacated house. It was planned to be fixed sometime today, the hold up due to their low resources of the proper wood. He would be glad to finally sleep in his own bed; he was still mad at Gavin and Jack kept his house unbearably hot, but Geoff had said that his was unfit for sleeping in.

The three blocks the gouges had been inflicted on were gone now, leaving a large hole in the front wall. It left him feeling oddly vulnerable; a vast, gaping window revealed everything about the inside of the only piece of land he _personally_ owned in this world. Not only had it been violated so viciously, it was delivering blows even after it’d happened.

Michael had a _seriously_ bad feeling.

He trailed behind Jack rather listlessly, gaze lingering on the empty blocks in his house before he forced himself to drag his stare somewhere else. It would be no good to waste time worrying about it, when there was no positive way to solve the situation. He decided to just wait for whatever was coming. He would deal with it once it got here.

“Michael?”

He jumped, looking at Jack and hurrying after him. He’d fallen far behind and had to jog to catch up.

“Sorry,” he muttered once next to the bearded man again.

“We’ll get it fixed today,” Jack said knowingly. “Don’t worry about it.”

“I’m not worrying about it,” Michael said. “I’m _pissed off_ about it. Some fucking asshole destroys my house and there isn’t shit I can do about it.”

“It was just an Enderman, Michael.”

“If it was an Enderman, then why didn’t it just take the blocks, Jack?” Michael sighed tiredly. He’d had this conversation too many times to count with Geoff early the second he’d been made aware of the attack in an attempt to convince the older that the pigman existed. It hadn’t gone well.

“Endermen habits aren’t my forte, I apologize,” Jack replied dryly. He’d had enough of _hearing_ the conversation, it seemed.

Michael shrugged and brushed it off. “Yeah, whatever.”

They climbed the small hill together, and true to Jack’s word, there were an abundant number of cows grazing happily in the spot directly behind the cobblestone house. Michael said nothing about it, simply narrowing his eyes and taking out his sword as Jack quietly placed a chest a few blocks away.

When gathering beef in particular, they never met much of a challenge. The cows were fairly dumb and put up no fight whatsoever, but the boys were still very quick to end their lives. There was no need to make them suffer. Soon, both Michael and Jack’s inventories were stuffed with raw beef, both men sweating and panting from energy expended by chasing the cattle around with heavy weapons. After a short period of being inactive, Michael grew tired faster than normal and stripped from his chainmail, the heavy metals only dragging him down. The remaining cows had dispersed completely by the time they had two rows of inventory filled, but it didn’t matter; with each cow able to give up to four steaks, there wasn’t need to kill all of them.

Michael gave a long, rather filthy groan of pleasure as he stretched. There was a burn deep in his muscles, familiar and warm. He welcomed it like an old friend, with weak, shaky arms exhausted with overuse and leftover adrenaline. He was going to be sore tomorrow, a sort of loose pain that was only second to the pain after a good, thorough fucking.

Jack laughed at him, wiping the sweat from his brow. “Feel good to be working again?”

Michael smiled through his panting. “Oh yeah,” he said. “Definitely.”

“I can imagine,” Jack said, nodding in sympathy. “How’s your head?”

Michael rolled his eyes. “My head is, and always _was,_ fine. You guys worry too much. No one said anything about Ray when _he_ broke his leg.”

“That’s because Ray is a mature, competent young man,” a different voice said. Michael jumped and spun to see the man himself leaning against a tree. His expression was oddly tight, but he gave Michael a loose grin when the redhead met his eyes.

“What?” Jack said sharply, having watched Michael startle.

“Nothin’, just scared me is all,” Michael grumbled, turning to face the bearded man. “And I’m definitely more mature than Ray. I don’t know why he seems to be so much higher up on the ladder than me.”

“Because he’s better than you?” Ray suggested. Michael felt a pang of irritation at his words but didn’t acknowledge the brunette.

“Because he’s more responsible than you,” Jack said calmly. He made it clear he wasn’t looking for a fight by turning his body so it was angled away from Michael – a technique often used when they encountered wolves. Michael bristled.

“Everyone is such a dick lately,” he growled. “I don’t know what crawled up your collective ass, but suddenly no one trusts me and I’m ‘ _incompetent_ ’.” He spat the word with venom.

“You’re not incompetent,” Jack huffed, but there was no heart in his words. The hollow tone in which he said them caused Michael’s hackles to rise even further. Michael could tell Jack was growing impatient and even slightly annoyed with him.

“Gee, thanks,” he said bitingly. The venom in his tone made Jack visibly stiffen.

“Eh, I dunno,” Ray said, shrugging casually when Michael glanced at him over his shoulder. “He’s pretty damn incompetent.”

Michael glared at him, sealing his mouth shut when angry, injurious words battered at his teeth. His stomach feeling distinctly like a bowtie, Michael turned fully away from Ray in an attempt to ignore him. He didn’t know why Ray was trying to goad him into a fight – perhaps he was hoping that Michael’s pent up stress would be released in one angry burst. The revelation made Michael’s fists clench.

“It’s not that you’re incompetent,” Jack said, the words seeming to be forced. “You’ve just been a little off kilter. Concussions can be serious, and out here where there’s no medical help available, it’s scary to us when someone hits their head. With a broken bone, it’s a rather easy fix. Just a splint, some ice, and a lot of rest after we’ve set the bone. With a head injury, it could swell, and we have no cure for that.”

Michael hated that the words made sense. He knew in his heart, however, that what he was seeing wasn’tthe result of tripping and hitting his head. He’d been _dropped_ on his head after being attacked. He couldn’t have imagined getting the injury, and no one else seemed to understand that.

“We were just worried about you, Michael,” Jack continued, frowning heavily. “And then an Enderman was in the city that night. So fucking sue us for being frightened over _two_ scary things happening damn near hours apart.”

Michael laughed scathingly. “See – the funny thing is, if you’d just fucking _listen_ to what I’m saying, you’d realize that we have bigger things to worry about!”

“Oh, don’t start with that again,” Jack muttered.

Michael practically saw red. “Goddamn, what’s wrong with all of you!”

“Everything you tried to show Geoff wasn’t there, Michael,” Jack said condescendingly. “The trees were fine, the portal was fine  –”

“Someone replaced the blocks!” Michael shouted, rage causing his words to become white-hot. “Is it that hard to believe?”

“Someone replacing obsidian blocks? Yeah, actually,” Jack said, his own irritation rising. Michael could feel Ray watching with what felt like amusement from behind him. “Michael  – you’re talking nonsense. You can’t hear yourself.”

“I hear myself perfectly fucking clear! It’s you that has your head up your ass!”

“I think you need to calm down –”

“Fuck you, Jack,” Michael said savagely, shoving his way past the man to very carelessly empty his entire inventory into the chest they’d set up. After that, he was quick to storm off into the forest behind Gav’s house. He could hear Jack making an unkind mutter of curses under his breath, but the bearded man made no move to stop him. Almost regretfully, Michael continued deeper into the small jungle, vindictively stepping on as many plants as he could and ripping down the branches within range, creating a small path of destruction just to spite Jack.

Fueled by adrenaline and building rage, Michael stalked into the forest, heading deep enough to not disturb anyone in the city and locked his claws into place. He then picked out the widest tree he could find and tore into it, slashing and ripping up the bark until it was unrecognizable to the tall, proud trunk it’d once been, reduced to ruins and weeping sap. Each pass of his claws gave Michael a miniscule trickle of relief to his blinding anger, but the flint nail of his index finger was soon broken off by the force of his swipes, snapping off and embedding in the oak’s wood. The sound of the durable material shattering was a click in his mind, and he was abruptly knocked from his trance. The arm raised in preparation for another blow hesitated and fell, hanging loosely by his side until he slumped forward. He leaned heavily against the trunk, panting and weakly clutching at the ruined bark. His vision began to clear, as did the haze over his mind.

“Well, that was productive,” a sarcastic voice said from behind him. Michael didn’t even turn, feeling his heart tighten. He closed his eyes in defeat.

_Fuck._

“Go away, Ray,” Michael said tiredly.

Ray didn’t speak, but Michael could hear him moving closer. A small weight settled on his shoulder, the flush of Michael’s body preventing him from feeling the warmth of what was presumably Ray’s hand.

“Michael,” Ray said in a calming voice. “Come back to the city with me. You need to calm down, you might hurt someone.”

“I would never,” Michael rebuffed. “I’m not coming yet, just… gimme sec, huh, Ray?” When Ray didn’t move, he continued pointedly. “ _Alone_?”

Ray tsked. “I don’t think that’s a good idea,” he said slowly. “The last time you were alone it didn’t go so well.”

Well, Michael couldn’t argue with that. He sighed and pushed himself away from the tree, the weight of Ray’s hand disappearing. Avoiding the brunette’s intense gaze, he picked at the sharp wedge of flint that was lodged in the sticky bark.

“You’re kind of losing it, Michael.”

The redhead’s heart stuttered.

“You’re all twitchy and sensitive,” Ray went on. “You’re not… you.”

“F–Fuck you, Ray,” Michael stammered, heart in his throat. He turned around and stared at Ray, who looked unapologetic. “You’re being a dick –”

“I’m being honest,” Ray said earnestly. “I want to help you – we all do. But there’s nothing we can do if you want to keep living in your delusions.”

“I’m not –”

“Yes, you are!” Ray burst out, shocking Michael into silence. Ray only yelled if he was upset, and when Ray yelled, it was ugly. He could see the stress in the dark eyes of his lover, buried deep and finally beginning to surface. “You’ve lost your mind. Nothing’s been the same with you – it’s like getting a concussion changed your personality!”

“That’s – that’s not true,” Michael said, but Ray wasn’t finished.

“I’m sick and tired of you! You’re _ruining_ what we have here.”

Michael stepped back, shell-shocked and utterly speechless. He’d never heard Ray talk to him like this, never heard him speak his mind so bluntly. And frankly, he’d never wanted to. “I’m – I’m not meaning to –”

“You need to get a damn grip, Michael,” Ray said in a wavering voice, crossing his arms and looking away from the redhead.

“I’ve – I’ve got a grip,” Michael said. It was becoming hard to catch his breath.

“Michael,” Ray laughed, nervously running a hair through his hair. “The last thing you’ve got is a grip. More like psychosis –”

“Ray,” Michael yelped, a desperate plea in his tone for the brunette to _please, just stop talking._ He didn’t want to see Ray’s expression and instead closed his eyes. If he focused, he could feel the physical painin his chest, just over his heart.

Ray was quiet for a long few moments. “Sorry,” he finally grunted, voice gruff. “It’s not like I’m trying to make you feel bad. It’s just that you’ve really been a pain the past few days.”

Michael laughed shakily, rubbing the back of his neck. “Aren’t I usually?” he joked weakly. “I’ll stop making you guys worry so much.”

Ray was frowning by the end of his sentence. “Right. The worrying. I was actually talking about shitty kind of boyfriend you’ve been, but that, too.”

Michael stared at him, gaping. He subtly pinched his arm, just to make sure, but this couldn’t have been any more real. Ray had never… _never_ been so brutally honest with him. He’d always soothed the redhead’s fears – he was the one Michael went to if he wanted to get something off his chest, to really talk, and despite it being a rare urge for the redhead, those heart-to-hearts meant the world to Michael. All of his worries had been easily smoothed over: about not being strong enough, not being good in bed, his emotional unavailability, being a shit boyfriend – everything, he’d thought, had been settled.

But right now, Ray was looking at him as if he’d never shared a single moment with Michael; simultaneously, he knew everything about that stranger, and he was revolted by what he saw.

“What?” Ray asked in surprise. His eyebrows rose. “I won’t lie to you, Michael. I’m not a liar, like you.”

Michael couldn’t speak.

“Nothing to say?” Ray asked before rolling his eyes. “’Course not. You were always so dumb with words.”

Michael stiffened, taking another step back. That hadn’t been something he’d confided in Ray – but it was a rather large insecurity of his. That meant the brunette had picked up on it. The knowledge made his throat thicken.

“You’re just gonna stand there?” Ray sounded bored. “No curse words to toss around? No tantrum to throw? You’re not good at much, but your talent to scream, cry, and cuss in just about any situation is impressive.”

 _What was happening_?

“Huh. I’d thought you’d start spitting fire, like you do so often. I mean, yeah, it gets annoying, but c’mon. I didn’t expect you to really change, no matter how much we’d like if you did.”

“Why are you saying all of this?” Michael’s words were barely audible.

“Saying what, Michael? What’s _really_ on my mind?”

“Yeah, you’re being a fucking asshole –”

“I’ve always wanted to tell you what we all really think,” Ray cut in, shrugging. “I thought it was cruel for you not to know… but Geoff told me not to. Simple as that. I mean, it’s not exactly your mundane personality or lack of skills that keeps you around.” He seemed to laugh at his own words. “Nah. It’s just that none of us wanted to do guard duty. You’re pretty expendable, so it was a damn good opportunity we took when we met you.”

Michael’s eyes burned. “You found me when I was _seven_ ,” he growled.

Ray stared at him blankly, face cold. It was if he’d forgotten the fact. “Well, you know what they say.” He said after a pause. “You can usually tell what kind of person someone is going to turn out to be at a young age. It was pretty clear we’d just ‘adopted’  –” he snickered, “  – a shitstain bonehead who didn’t really have the mental abilities to think three seconds ahead.”

“Stop it,” Michael said sharply. “Whatever stupid fucking therapy trick you’re trying isn’t working.”

Ray seemed to do a double take. Michael could see him grinning in his peripheral vision. “Pfft  – you think I’m trying to lecture you and make you _feel_ better?. No, I’m trying to beat you into submission. With just words. So far it’s working pretty well, don’t you think?”

“Submission?” Michael said lamely. He could think of nothing else to say.

Ray simply shrugged and abruptly left them in an awkward silence.

“Don’t… don’t you have fields to be plowing?” Michael eventually whispered. His tongue was oddly numb as he lifted his head to finally look at Ray. The brunette was staring at him, arms crossed and giving off an air of cool composure.

“Don’t you have Jack to be fighting with?” Ray said, cocking an eyebrow. “I’m sure he’s over it already. Didn’t exactly give it his all, did he?”

Michael narrowed his eyes but said nothing.

“No one’s really given it their all lately,” Ray said thoughtfully. “Have you noticed?”

Once again, Michael bite his tongue and stared silently.

Ray sighed. “Man, you’re not making it fun anymore. I was _gonna_ lead into ‘it’s because they’ve given up on you’, but if you don’t reply, it’s not nearly as good.”

“When was it ever fun?” Michael said, voice hushed. Dusk was beginning to fall and his voice felt eerily loud in the muted blanket that fell over the forest. “When would you – you talking like _that,_ being so fucking hurtful,ever be fun  – ?”

Ray burst into laughter, the normally infectious ha-ha-ha’s sounding heartless and apathetic. It made goosebumps rise along the back of Michael’s arm and a fleeting thought of _I need a sword_ crossed his mind.

“I’m being hurtful?” Ray finally chuckled. “Damn. Well, color me _surprised._ I thought nothing could hurt the infamous Mogar.”

Michael swallowed thickly. “Yeah, well…” he mumbled. His eyes burned again and he distantly wondered if Ray could tell he was damn near close to tears.

Ray seemed to deflate.

“Oh, I’m sorry, Michael,” Ray said, slumping his shoulders slightly. His tense posture relaxed and Michael subconsciously mirrored the motion. Ray smiled warmly, looking closer to the Ray Michael loved, before he walked closer, the space between them having grown with Michael’s gradual steps back. “Here, let me help you.”

He gently picked up Michael’s hand, fingers still chilly as ice cubes and very softly slipped the glove with the missing flint off. Michael hadn’t noticed, but his knuckles were bleeding slightly, the skin split and sluggishly oozing small droplets of what looked like black liquid in the evening light. His fingers were trembling under Ray’s delicate handling.

Ray slowly unclipped each glove and placed them into his inventory before beginning to inspect the small wounds.

“Why do you do this to yourself, Michael?” Ray said. Michael’s heart skipped a beat; Ray’s tone was devoid of all emotion, except perhaps intrigue. Ignoring the words, it sounded as if he could’ve been talking about the weather.

“I didn’t do it on purpose,” Michael grumbled. He winced when Ray’s thumb rubbed rather harshly over one of the large cuts.

“Mm,” Ray hummed, as if he’d expected that answer. “So I was right. You really _can’t_ control yourself. Remember when I said you were gonna hurt someone?”

Michael pulled his hand out of Ray’s frigid grip, thoroughly unnerved. “Yeah, and I said I would _never_ ,” he growled.

“If you do this to yourself without meaning to, think of what you’ll do to one of us?” Ray said in a sing-song voice.

“I wouldn’t,” Michael snapped, vision blackening slightly along the edges. His hearing rang with a high-pitched bell.

“I think you would,” Ray said lightly. He met Michael’s eyes challengingly. “Don’t you remember a few days ago? When you ‘saw’ the, uh, moonwalking pig?” he snickered. “And me and Gavin hid behind a tree?”

Michael’s veins felt coated in ice. “You always do that,” he said in a quivering voice. Uncertainty dripped heavy into his tone. “When – when something scary happens, you take cover -”

Ray rolled his eyes and scoffed. “Michael, we were hiding from _you._ ”

“N – no -”

“Yeah,” Ray butted in, grinning. “What do you think it looked like? You were – you _are_  – a madman. Holding the stick as if ready to play whack-a-mole. We weren’t sure who you were gonna hit – us or whatever spooked you.”

“That’s bullshit,” Michael whispered. But even as he said it, he could picture the fear in their eyes as they looked not at the pig, but at Michael.

They were scared of _Michael?_

“I know you know I’m not lying,” Ray continued. “I can tell by the way your chubby cheeks have gone all pale.”

He reached forward to playfully pinch one between his fingers, but Michael ducked away from him. “Get away from me,” the redhead warned, voice choked up slightly. “I don’t know what’s crawled up your ass and died, Ray, but you have no right to talk to me like that.”

Ray’s eyes widened, and for a moment Michael was filled with hope that he’d suddenly realized how he was treating him, but then Ray burst into hysterical laughter. He was bent double, the uncaring, utterly cold chuckles sending shivers down Michael’s spine. Wiping an imaginary tear from his eye, Ray straightened, shaking his head at Michael and giving him a pitying look.

“I have no right to talk to you like that?” Ray said in disbelief. “Michael – are you joking? Please tell me you’re joking.”

Michael closed his mouth firmly shut. The edges of his vision were overtaken by red this time, Ray’s scornful, mocking tone ribbing him in all the wrong ways. He just wanted the brunette to shut up, _shut up, shut up!_

“I have _every_ right to talk to you like this,” Ray said brashly. “Fuck, I have every right to beat you to a pulp, but then who’s going to Geoff’s little fuck toy? Who’s gonna do the dirty work no one else should ever have to come near?”

His voice grew louder and more derisive with each word. A bright grin was spread across his lips but didn’t go near his eyes. Michael fisted his hands by his side as his muscles twitched. Something purple and malevolent was creeping around the edges of his mind, but he paid it no heed, trying to block Ray’s hateful words out of his mind.

“What, you don’t like what you’re hearing? It shouldn’t come as a _surprise,_ Michael. You’ve always known your place in the city – or at least until the last few days. After getting a head injury, you’ve seemed to overestimate your importance.”

Michael squeezed his eyes shut and shook his head, breath catching in his chest as he fought to control himself. He couldn’t think through the thick haze of rage, violent and wicked, and Ray’s nasty, savage words were the only thing to cut through the fog.

“But it’s time someone knocked you down to your original peg. And I will gladly do that, even if the others won’t.” Ray paused. “What are you doing, trying to block me out? Haha – Michael, _love_ , you can’t hide from me!” Ray spat the word ‘love’ like it was poison on his tongue, his normally attractive face contorted with fury.

“You can’t hide from the truth, either, and even after this conversation ends, you’ll be put in your rightful place. Thank God, too, because personally, I can’t _stand_ you about seventy percent of the time,” Ray sneered. “Constantly sucking up to Geoff and trying oh so _desperately_ to get on his good side. Always pitching a fit whenever someone doesn’t agree with you – or even when they don’t pay you enough attention. You’re such a fucking attention whore… but that’s not all you’re a whore for, is it? Always fucking _begging_ for it; nothing is ever enough for you. Before we were even a thing, you’d suck Geoff’s dick for just a pat on the back. You’re a useless pity-fuck, Michael, and it’s not even a _good_ pity-fuck. It’s all you’re fucking good for and even _that_ you manage to fuck up, you stupid little cock-sucking _faggot_ -”

Michael’s entire body lurched forward with the force behind his punch, his fist flying directly for Ray’s nose. His vision had gone completely red, a terrible buzzing blocking out his angry shout as he lunged.

But before his fist could make contact, Ray was gone.

Stumbling forward, Michael tripped and fell to his knees, breath knocked from his lungs, leaving his gasping for appropriate breath. His head swam, a pained ache throbbing behind his eyes.

He heard laughing, a voice riddled with virulence.

“Wow!” it said. The eerie clapping echoed through the forest, the sound seeming to bounce off the trees and hammer against the redhead’s eardrums. “That certainly didn’t take long.”

Michael panted into the dirt, arms shaking. He glared up at the _thing_ standing feet from where it'd once been but not having moved a muscle. “You – you fucking  – you’re not Ray.”

“Nope,” the imposter said, shrugging. “It’s good to know that you’re abusive as well, though, Michael. I have to say that even I’m surprised.”

Michael’s heart ached, but the grin remained on his face. “Good thing you’re not Ray, then,” he said, arms beginning to give out. He held himself up as high as he could, however, and stared the thing right in the face.

“Fuck you,” he spat with a cold smile. “Apparitions can’t fucking _touch_ me, so why don’t you just crawl back to whatever slimy pit you slithered out of.”

The thing’s grin faded, leaving Ray’s face eerily devoid of emotion. It suddenly resembled the Ghost Ray he’d seen wandering around a few days ago much more closely. It was clear in its eyes – it was definitely not Ray. Michael couldn’t understand how he hadn’t seen it before.

It stepped closer, standing just in front of Michael. He felt a trickle of fear, unreasonable and pointless, but he couldn’t stop the shiver that passed through his shoulders.

“Oh yeah?” the thing whispered.

He didn’t have time to flinch. Michael watched as the thing – wearing Ray’s gray, steel-plated boots – reared back its foot in slow motion before it was suddenly flying at him. Pain exploded through Michael’s nose, stars erupting in bright, multicolored waves behind his eyelids as he was sent sailing through the air. His back hit the dirt, head knocking against the hard ground. A wave of dizziness assaulted him and his vision went dark.

He felt someone stepping on his right wrist, grinding the bones together, but the pain began fading away along with Michael’s consciousness. A voice was the last thing he could hear.

“Can an apparition do _that_ , Michael?”

\---

Geoff stood with one hip cocked, studying the lopsided building with an unsatisfied grimace. Gavin was staring at him anxiously, a bead of perspiration slowly creeping down the side of his cheekbone and dripping from his chin. Knowing that he was waiting for an answer, Geoff sighed and knew he wouldn’t be giving him the one he desired.

“Nope,” he finally said. Gavin’s shoulders slumped and Ryan gave a loud groan of unhappiness.

“Dammit!” the blonde cursed. He tossed his pickaxe to the ground, glaring at Geoff as he did so. “What’s wrong with it? How do we fix it?”

“I don’t know,” Geoff confessed. “The bases are all equal and the legs are the same size. I don’t know what could be causing it to tilt.”

Gavin hopped down from one of the platforms, landing with a light thud on the balls of his feet. Ryan followed a little less gracefully, almost losing his balance and falling backwards. Geoff rolled his eyes at the two.

“It’s past dusk,” Gavin pointed out. “We can’t build right now.”

“I know,” Geoff sighed. He’d been hoping to get the project done today so he could work with Jack the next morning, but now that the entire structure was shifted a good twenty degrees, he’d have to recruit Ryan and Gavin once more to help him. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to keep you guys out so late.”

He dug through his inventory for a fresh torch and gestured for Gavin and Ryan to follow him, his outstretched hand leading the way and revealing the trail. The sky had yet to fall completely dark, but it was just dim enough for a torch to be required. He held it high enough to shed light upon the well-beaten path, the footfalls of both Ryan and Gavin the only noise in the otherwise silent evening atmosphere.

“It sure smells out here,” Gavin commented, sounding disgusted. Geoff couldn’t help but agree, nose wrinkling. It must’ve been a piece of rotting zombie flesh, or something similar; sickly sweet and nauseatingly strong, it caused Geoff’s stomach to turn over in his abdomen.

“Something must’ve died,” Ryan nodded.

“Yeah, some of your brain cells,” Gavin snickered. Geoff rolled his eyes and laughed.

A scuffling behind him was the only noise to follow, most likely the sound of Ryan playfully shoving Gavin.

“Should we clear it out?” Gavin asked after a pause. “It could attract wolves.”

Geoff debated for a moment, hesitating on the path. The others stopped behind him. “We’ll do it in the morning. It’s getting a little late now… everyone’s got a sword, right?”

Two affirmative nods met his question, calming his nerves just slightly. He knew stone swords would do nothing against an Enderman in terms of damage, but the creatures were smarter than any creeper or zombie in these woods. The possession of an armament, especially a bow or any other long-ranged weapon, kept them at bay, attacks warded off due to their dislike of prey fighting back. They were utterly uninterested in a physical battle of any kind; their primary habit of taking down prey was appearing behind their back and slaughtering them in one or two hits. Geoff had heard from stories that if someone was foolish enough to make the first hostile move, the Enderman would not hesitate to kill them immediately. If, however, they were unprovoked, simply looking at their gaunt, black leathery faces would set off the next exchange, which was debatably even more unpleasant.

Enderman liked to _play_ with their quarry. It wasn’t so much of a chase as it was a game. The stories were horrific – victims mauled beyond recognition with claws sharper than razors, the many bones in their bodies broken from the tall heights they’d been repeatedly dropped from, even the pieces of skin and muscle chewed off in strange places that suggested Enderman ate and digested their flesh.

All of it was inherently creepy.

They were possibly the worst foe in Achievement City, but thankfully he’d yet to be placed in a situation where all of them fought the monster face to face. Hopefully, they never would.

Geoff was hasty to hurry them back to the city, forcing the two behind him to jog at a swift pace. Their panting and red-faces made Geoff feel slightly bad, but he knew that a little exhaustion was better than being fucking _eaten._

Picking up the last torch that served as a lighthouse for the city’s main trail, Geoff placed it in his existing stack and turned to grin apologetically at Gavin and Ryan, both of whom were glaring at him.

“That really wasn’t necessary,” Ryan puffed out as they walked towards Geoff’s house. The city was quiet, the rising moon casting an eerie stillness on the homes and logo. The iron door to his house creaked as he opened it and Geoff laughed as they descended down the ladder.

“Extra blocks in this one, please,” Geoff said, leaning up against the chest to the far wall. They rolled their eyes in tandem, obviously familiar with the ritual they’d repeated many times before, but mutely followed instructions, reaching deep into their inventory and chucking all stacks of cobblestone, wood, and other materials into the spare chest. Gavin held up his stone sword.

“And this?” he asked sarcastically. Geoff pursed his lips. Gavin knew damn well where it went.

“Up on the wall,” Geoff said patiently. “With the other stone swords?”

“Oh, right,” Gavin said with a non-convincing smirk. “Must’ve forgotten.”

“And this, Geoff?” Ryan asked politely, hefting his extra chest plate into his arms.

Geoff gave the two a flat glare. “Okay, enough joking around. I want to have time for a relaxing dinner.”

Ryan and Gavin shared grins before the blonde managed to hook the armor back onto the wall. Leading them to the main room of the house, Geoff found himself frowning.

“What time is it?” he asked Gavin.

“Uh – seven thirty,” Gavin said in his foreign lilt. He was sporting a heavy frown as well. “Where is everyone?”

“Good question.”

A quick inspection revealed that the house was empty. After a work day was complete, normally the boys would end up at Geoff's house, ready for a home-cooked meal by the tattooed man. Realizing the house was undoubtedly empty, Geoff couldn’t help but feel unsettled.

“Geoff,” Ryan chided as Geoff practically ran to the door. “I’m sure everyone’s fine. You can dial the ‘worried dad’ role back a bit.”

As he opened the door, Geoff made a face. “ _Please_ don’t refer to me as any kind of fatherly figure, please.”

“But Michael doe–”

“That’s different and you know it,” Geoff said quickly, cheeks pinking slightly. “Stay here, idiots.”

He closed the door after him, watching over his shoulder as he walked to Ray’s house to make sure the two weren’t following him. Opening the creaky, rather worn down door, Geoff frowned into the empty space that was essentially Ray’s entire house. The bed was unoccupied and it looked untouched from this morning.

Going in a circle, Michael’s house was next. It too was vacant, showing no signs of the redhead having visited his home at any point in the day. Making a frustrated noise, Geoff realized they must’ve been at Jack’s house.

He was partially right.

“Jack?” Geoff called, peeking his head through the door. He sighed in relief when he saw the back of Jack’s head over the top of the couch. “Oh god, there you are. What’s wrong with you shitheads?”

Jack turned to him in surprise, eyebrows raised in question. “Plural?”

“Yeah, Michael and Ray…”

Geoff’s words trailed off as he looked around, belatedly realizing that only Jack was in the room. He was sitting alone on the couch, alone in his _house._

“Where are Michael and Ray?” Geoff demanded, recovering quickly.

Jack’s brow furrowed. “Don’t know,” he grunted, avoiding Geoff’s stare. “Me and Michael sorta… had a blowout. Ray’s probably in your house, though. You guys got back pretty late and he was waiting for dinner.”

“And you?”

“Like I said, blowout. Not really hungry.”

“What do you mean ‘blowout’?” Geoff said slowly, apprehensive. It was rare they did, but when fights broke out amongst the men, it often turned messy. All of them were stubborn and hard-headed to some extent, and the existence of a more personal bond between them often created a sharp kind of ruthlessness to be factored into any qualms. Though he was guilty of this himself, Geoff dreaded having to deal with any sort of conflict between them.

“I dunno,” Jack said, shrugging. “He flipped out… I may’ve been a dick here or there, but he overreacted and stormed off.”

“Stormed off where?” Geoff demanded. “Jack, he’s not back yet.”

Jack was quiet.

“Jack, it’s _dark_ outside.”

The atmosphere seemed to physically shift. Jack’s head snapped up, gaze immediately darting to one of the many windows in the house. How he could’ve missed the sun setting was beyond Geoff, but after a moment he had to sympathize. To be so upset as he sat and stewed in his house, not noticing the light changing around him, then Jack must've been thoroughly rattled. “What happened?” Geoff asked a moment later.

“I asked him how his head was,” Jack muttered, shaking his head. Geoff could tell he regretted asking _that_ particular question, even now, while still angry. “And he said we worry too much, something about how Ray got off pretty scot-free when he broke his leg. He got all twitchy and whipped around to stare at Gav’s house or something, saying ‘just scared me is all’. I don’t know, Geoff, but something was off. He said we don’t trust him, that he thinks we think he’s incompetent. He started on the pigman thing after that.”

“I thought we’d dropped that,” Geoff said lowly, rubbing his aching eyes.

“I did, too. He got riled up, said a very loving ‘fuck you’ and tore ass through the forest.”

“Wait – through the forest? Why didn’t you stop him?”

“Because, Geoff. I was _angry._ Almost… weirdly so. I got back home and it didn’t seem like such a big deal, but when it was happening, I felt almost _violent._ It was weird,” Jack confessed, scratching his head. “I figured it was better for both of us if I just let him breathe. I didn’t want to hit him, for Christ’s sake.”

“He’s not back yet,” Geoff said in a tight voice. He felt no ire towards his bearded lover, but the situation was quickly turning ugly. “And Ray’s not home. In mine or his.”

“I haven’t seen Ray all day,” Jack said, shaking his head. His eyes were wide as he stood from his couch.

“Fucking great,” Geoff muttered, holding the door open for Jack when the bearded man quickly made to follow him. Jack hesitated by the door, opened his chest, and took two of his iron swords. They were spares, Geoff knew, and ultimately unnecessary considering they’d just be walking to Geoff’s house, where an entire chest of them sat, but he couldn’t help feeling safer with the firm weight of the iron in his hand.

“Well?” Gavin asked as soon as they neared the door. He pushed it open for them. “Er – Geoff, I don’t mean to complain, but you’re missing two out of three.”

“Yes, I realize that.”

“Well, where -?”

“Gav, could you please just hold off for a sec? We need to get sorted,” Geoff replied. Jack locked the door firmly behind them, the click doing nothing to calm his anxiety.

Walking into the kitchen, he placed the sword on the counter. Ryan, who was perched at a spot on the bar, eyed it cautiously, slowly rising from his seat. “Geoff?” he said warily.

“We can’t go out now, Geoff,” Jack said, sounding pained. “It’s well past sunset.”

“I realize that, too, Jack,” Geoff said shortly, leaning his elbows on the counter and placing his face in his hands. He rubbed at his sore eyes for a long, quiet pause, collecting his thoughts.

“They have to be near the city,” Gavin reasoned. “They’ve probably been sulking in the woods all damn day -”

“You know that’s not like Ray,” Ryan said, contemplative and slightly pale. “They probably ran into trouble and are holed up somewhere outside of the city. Michael was gathering beef, so he had both armor and a sword, right? They should be fine.”

“He might have his sword, but no armor,” Jack breathed, eyes wide. “He took his off near noon – it was too hot for chainmail. Before he left, he threw his inventory into the chest – I don’t know if he put his sword in or not -”

Snatching his weapon from the counter, Geoff stashed it into his inventory and led the bustling group out of the house, guided by Jack’s pointing finger. The chest was still sitting atop the crest of the small hill Gavin’s house was built on. There were two cows wandering in the field, chewing leisurely on grass as they watched the four men with glassy eyes.

Geoff threw open the chest with enough force to snap the lid off its hinges. It went unnoticed by all as Geoff searched the contents, praying to whatever deity that would listen that he wouldn’t find an iron sword in there.

“Dammit,” he cursed, a weight in his stomach dropping like lead. He pulled it out by the handle. An ‘M’ was engraved on the crown of the hilt.

Gavin reached over his shoulder, frowning as he pushed a stack of beef to the side. A familiar sleeve had been hiding behind it, partially hidden by the raw meat. The two Velcro latches on the fringe allowed Geoff to identify the article of clothing as Michael’s beloved bear hoodie. Gavin yanked on it until it came free.

“Jesus!” Gavin yelped, shifting his hand until he was gripping the jacket with only the tips of his thumb and index finger.

Blood, thick and clumpy, was partially dried into what once was the beautiful, golden fabric. Cracked and long dried, it was unmistakably the horror-inducing body fluid. The hoodie was caked with the crimson liquid, staining the color a dark reddish brown.

“This is _days_ old,” Ryan said, not hesitating to take it from Gavin’s tentative grip. “At least four, max. And -” Ryan gagged slightly when he brought it to his nose for a sniff “- ugh, definitely not human. That – I’ve never smelled that before. It’s not zombie goop.”

There was a long pause as they all looked at the ruined jacket.

“Dammit!” Geoff yelled, standing up from his crouch and sprinting back to his house. “Four days ago – that was when Michael was late to the mines!”

He burst into his house and practically fell down the ladder in his haste. The others tripped and stumbled after him.

Throwing open the weapon chest, Geoff withdrew the only diamond sword they had and tossed the others their personalized iron ones.

“What’s happening? What’re we doing?” Gavin asked, confused and gripping the hilt tightly.

“We’re going to find them.”

“But it’s dark –”

“They’re in trouble. Michael was never lying or hallucinating. He was attacked… and we didn’t fucking believe him.”

\---

Two hours ago, Ray had been hard at work harvesting the most recent raise of crops; digging the hoe into the impacted dirt until the soil was soft and pliable – ready for seeding. He would then gather the ripe seeds from the other field, bundling the prepared wheat into tidy bales. Though it wasn’t his specific job, Ray was the best at it; his rows were always neat and well-stocked.

But an hour and a half ago, he misjudged the distance between the bottom of his hoe and the dirt, the tip of the wooden handle clipping him between the eyebrows and knocking his glasses off. It had bruised the bridge of his nose and he had squinted in annoyance, vision instantly having gone hazy. The lines of the field blurred as he stared at the ground around him, searching for the thick-framed spectacles. It was only by chance that he’d glanced up, checking his surroundings in an instinctual tick.

There had been something pink and fuzzy in the distance. Not even yards away, though it seemed slightly farther due to his distorted depth perception. He’d had to narrow his eyes until they were almost closed to finally make out what it was.

An hour and twenty five seven ago, Ray was running back to the city, glasses clutched in his left hand as he sprinted, the image of the floating pig still haunting his mind. Regret had been fleeting; he didn’t have the time to worry about apologizing just yet. Flashes of shifting purples and reds teased at him on either side, the trees seeming to melt slightly, their trunks bending and distorting sideways until they abruptly snapped back to their original positions like a puppet with its strings straightened. His breathing was strained by the time he got onto a more-traveled upon trail.

He’d gotten so, _so_ close.

An hour ago, he was forced to hide behind the tree by the sudden presence of an oddly… _familiar_ figure strolling down the trail, something pale slung over his shoulder.

He had had to put his glasses back on to see what it was, and even then, he was unsure if he was seeing it correctly. It was as if he was looking into a mirror, the doppelganger a straight ringer for Ray in every fashion, except, perhaps, the eyes. Its eyes had seemed a few shades darker and undeniably colder. They had been narrowed with the effort of carrying what looked like Michael over his shoulder, but the redhead was unconscious. He had to be – Michael was _never_ that still, not even in sleep.

His back had pressed firm against the nearest tree he could dive behind. Ray – the _other_ Ray – hadn’t noticed him, whistling as he casually sauntered into the forest, diverging slightly off the path and heading into the thick field of trees. Ray hadn’t even thought to debate; he had followed quietly not seconds later.

The thing’s image had flickered as they drew closer to the goal, which Ray soon realized was the Nether portal. They’d never used it, unsure of what lay waiting for them on the other side, and if this _thing_ was prize they’d meet, Ray would’ve been happy to leave it alone. Take it down, even.

He had watched through the bushes of a nearby oak as the thing stepped into the clearing. It was no longer him, but a twisted version of his physical body – its hair was a bleached gray, skin a dark shade of smoke. Ray’s stomach had dropped what felt like feet when he noticed that Michael’s image had remained the same. It was the real Michael. Ray had had no doubt. His heart had raced, but before he could decide if interrupting whatever the _hell_ was going on here, the thing had stepped into the portal and in one blinding purple flash, both him and Michael had been gone. Ray had stared in confusion and alarm, stepping warily out from the tree and approaching with the stone sword held at the ready.

And about five seconds ago, Ray had gotten too close to the portal and had been sucked in as well.

He stumbled from the obsidian step, gasping dizzily and rubbing his violet-stained eyes as a wave of heat hit him. Feeling around for something to steady himself, his hand met a warm, solid block with holes covering the surface. Opening his eyes a fraction, it took a long moment for his vision to clear. When it did, however, he blanched. The smiley faces carved into the obsidian blocks were one thing.

But the sight in front of him struck him utterly stupid.

He was facing a void that rivaled Last Man Standing. It was awe-inspiring but equally terrifying. For as far as the eye could see, there was just... _nothing._ Red space. It was as if a giant had bled out into the atmosphere. There was a ledge a few feet in front of Ray and when he crept forward to look over it, he gulped and felt sweat break out on his forehead.

Blocks of fire engulfed the ground miles below, the chasm deep and vast. Lava was pooling across the floor in multiple angles, flooding spaces full of the molten, bubbling elixir. Hands shaking, Ray quickly backed away from the edge, scrambling back to safety, but he noticed that the closer he came to the portal, the louder it would stir. Knowing that Michael’s fate had abruptly been dropped in his hands, Ray drew away from the obsidian structure with purpose.

Behind the portal was a large field of what seemed to be red dirt, though it had a distinct spongy gravel-like feel as his shoes stepped on it. Patches of fire dotted the long stretch of land, the only light source in the area. The ceiling was made of the same material as the walls and floor, giving Ray a rather claustrophobic impression of a cave. In the far distance, a corner of the cavern was lit up by a cluster of yellow-gold blocks that seemed to be glowing.

The doppelganger was nowhere to be found. Ray followed what he thought would be the most likely path it’d taken, though he had no clue as to where it was heading, especially with Michael.

The ground squished beneath his gray boots as he walked, fists clenching in a sore wish for a sword. Working in the fields had never required a weapon, though he hadn’t counted on having to suddenly rise to the occasion. He briefly considered going home if only for a sword and backup, but if he came back and Michael was already dead… he’d know that it was his fault for wasting time.

And Ray wouldn’t be able to live with that.

\---

Michael didn’t remember waking up.

It was either hours, or minutes… or seconds ago…

He didn’t remember losing that space in his memory, but there were _far_ more important things to be worrying about right now, and being strapped to a chair in a dark room was one of them.

His breathing was almost deafeningly loud in the dull silence. It filled his ears, flooded his brain, and seemed to seep from the corners of his blind-folded eyes. His chest ached with each heave, the muscles of his diaphragm sore and tight with every movement. His pectorals and biceps throbbed in slow, steady pulses in time with his heartbeat, the position of his arms pulled around the back of the chair uncomfortable and painful. Something dried and metallic tasting – unsurprisingly familiar – caked the front of his face, crusting over his upper lip and chin. A rope around his neck was attacked to the one binding his hands, too short and forcing his head to be pulled back. The sliver of space the blindfold didn’t cover was lowly lit, but not nearly well-enough for Michael to get a good look at his surroundings.

While his memory of how he’d gotten here was soiled, his memory of _why_ was not. He feared and greatly anticipated the moment where fake Ray would walk through the door. Hopefully he could repay the creature in kind – with something like a boot in the face. Or maybe the nuts.

His skin shivered periodically, despite the high temperature. Michael didn’t want to admit it was from fear, but he couldn’t completely ignore the blood-chilling emotion slowly soaking into his veins, spreading like poison. Closer and closer to his heart it crawled.

Time was an unpredictable bitch. Michael had not a guess as to how long he was in that prison. It could’ve been days, it could have been seconds. The only moment to break the monotony was when the creak of a door opening broke through the thick, suffocating hush.

“Oh,” a familiar voice gasped. Michael’s lungs hitched, throat sore and pulled taunt.

“Gav?” Michael blurted, hope weak and timid in his voice.

A familiar giggle seemed to be muffled in the distance. Michael’s head spun. He closed his eyes under the blindfold. His head wasn’t exactly running on a full tank at this point, but even in his disoriented state, he knew that Gavin would never giggle at the sight of him like this.

“Yes?” Gavin called, merciless glee saturating the words.

Michael almost bit his tongue. His lungs shriveled, ribs chattering where they sat.

“Oh, he’s smarter than ours was,” Gavin said in an approving voice, but he wasn’t talking to Michael. There was a low hum of the other person in the room.

“Weaker, too,” Geoff’s voice said. Michael’s skin crawled as soon as the thing opened its mouth – it sounded a lot like Geoff, but there was a chill in its voice that traveled deep into Michael’s bones. Geoff rarely spoke like that, as the elder was a good-natured man, but Michael knew he could be a mean, heartless son of a bitch when he wanted to.

“I think they’re all like that,” Gavin said conversationally. The sound of footsteps against a wet floor signaled his approach, causing Michael to tense. A gentle touch was laid upon his cheek, tracing an icy path down until resting on his jugular. It followed the movement of Michael’s swallow. “Softer than us, as well.”

“Should be easier to slice ‘em up, then,” Geoff said, a smile worming its way into the tone. He spoke the words so casually that Michael only understood the meaning after a long moment of digestion. “C’mon, Gavin, get on with it. I don’t have all damn day.”

Gavin snorted, frozen fingers slipping under the fabric covering Michael’s eyes and sliding it off. He threw it into the corner of the room, much more interested in grinning down at Michael. The redhead could barely see the other’s face, but the stark white hair affirmed his certain belief that this wasn’t _Gavin._

“Oh, he _is_ awake!” Gavin cooed with obvious ire. “I wasn’t sure. So far, he’s a lot less… responsive, which is too bad. I don’t remember him changing _that_ much.”

“We were innocent back then,” Geoff said. Michael could see the movement of his shoulders shrugging. “I imagine they haven’t started fucking yet, either.”

They went quiet, as if to gauge his reaction. Keeping his face uncharacteristically expressionless, Michael’s loud panting was the only sound in the room. Each inhale scraped down his throat like razors, but he fought to remain stoic.

“Well, now I just think he’s doing it on purpose,” Gavin finally said. Without warning, he reached behind Michael and grabbed hold of the rope connecting his neck and hands, pulling downwards in a sharp motion. A strangled yell was ripped from the redhead’s throat before he could wrestle it back in, his air cut off almost immediately. His head swam, vision already going fuzzy as a testament to how weak he’d gotten over the time of his capture. It couldn’t have been that long, but exhaustion was already heavy in his gut, his stomach crying for food and throat for water.

“Oh, that was much better!” Gavin praised, releasing the rope. His hand carded through Michael’s hair, a similar show of affection as the normal Gavin would have done.

“Fuck you,” Michael finally growled out, jerking to the side. Gavin’s hand slid from his hair down to his throat. A thumb pressed into his pulse point, gentle at first, as if checking for his heartbeat. But then it dug in, pushing his windpipe to the side and causing blood to rush to his head. Michael wheezed in a flurry of breaths, the odd sensation causing his brain to frantically process what was happening. Gavin laughed and withdrew, as if he’d enjoyed the small show.

“Glad to hear he still has a _dirty_ mouth,” Gavin purred, bending to look right into Michael’s narrowed eyes. “That’ll be fun later.”

“Fuck off,” Michael said hoarsely. Before Gavin could reply or pull away, he gathered what saliva he could in his mouth and spat it directly into the creature’s face.

Gavin stood up slowly, an eerie calm settling over his features. Emotionlessly, he wiped it from his nose and seemed to stare at his sleeve in thought.

His chair was almost tipped over with the force of Gavin’s blow. More blood poured from his nostrils. Due to his oddly angled head, this time the scarlet substance began to stream down his cheeks and into his hair, some beginning to pool in his eyes as well. Gavin grunted and left the room rather abruptly, leaving Michael to spit the blood collecting in the back of his mouth to the side.

A heavy weight settling on his hips almost made him shout in shock. He jumped and stiffened, realizing that Geoff was still in the room. Fairly sure that the thing was now sitting on him, Michael didn’t dare move.

“That was stupid,” Geoff commented, laying chilly hands on Michael’s bare chest. The contact made the skin jump.

“Get the fuck off me,” Michael hissed.

Geoff ignored him, instead taking to running his nails lightly across the skin of Michael’s stomach. Goosebumps arose in their trail. “I remember when my flesh used to be this soft.”

Michael was quiet, waiting with bated breath.

“It was so long ago that I barely remember,” Geoff said quietly, continuing his long, drawn out strokes. “We stepped through the portal and… poof. Not only were we stuck… we weren’t the sappy, pitiful, _disgusting_ old versions of ourselves that you are now.”

Michael’s heart skipped a beat, and before he could stop it, he breathed out a single word:

“Glitches.”

Geoff hummed, his nails pressing a fraction harder into his skin. “Glitches,” he agreed.

If Michael had to pinpoint a moment in which he knew he was fucked, that would be the one.

\---

Ray worked well without a sword. He was well-versed in the dance that was hand-to-hand combat, and though he was not quite as skilled as Michael, he gladly held the place of second best. It was a title he wore with a quiet type of pride, though he recognized that killing things was nothing to boast about.

In that moment, however, Ray was pretty damn happy he’d taken the time to learn how to fight.

He’d never seen a thing like it. Fat and cube-shaped, it chased after him in exaggerated, sloppy steps, jumping damn near five meters in the air before slamming back into the ground with a sickening squelch. Every punch Ray delivered to its squishy body sent a sting up the brunette’s arm, a burn quickly beginning to start up in his knuckles. He could tell he was wearing it down, albeit slowly. It moved like a wounded man with each blow, significantly slowed down.

Finally, the thing collapsed on its side with a dying cry. Ray only had time to exhale with relief before it suddenly combusted into flames and ash, showering Ray until his entire body was a murky gray. He stood in shocked awe, glancing down and grimacing at his clothes. The black and white of his ‘tux’ was dulled out to one monotone color, fingers looking deathly from where they emerged past his sleeve. The noises of other monsters roaming the dimension could easily be heard in the distance, an assortment of squeals and odd shrieking sounds.

_Michael. Find Michael._

He was nearing where they took him – he knew it. There were footprints in the sand around him, chillingly familiar and plentiful in number. They fit the imprint of his own shoes to a tee. He followed them cautiously, keeping an eye out for any ghostly versions of himself or any other magma cubes.

It took him a while to recognize the back of his own house. It was made out of a material not unlike dirt, but the surrounding blocks on the floor slowed his progress greatly, so he was careful to not step there. It was the same dimensions as his own back home, still just as shitty. It made him smile a bit at the memory before realizing that there were _other_ houses around here, too.

It was an exact replica of Achievement City. He couldn’t believe his eyes. All of their hard work, their countless hours gathering cobblestone for Geoff’s fortress of a house just to play a joke, the memories they’d created – all of it was here, in a sick, twisted version of their life. The logo was the same, but the color scheme was changed to a more menacing, almost sickly adaption. It was an eyesore and frankly terrifying. Jack and Michael’s houses were no longer made of weather-roughened oak wood, but now a creepily dark shade of spruce or something of the like. It was too dark to see inside any one of the houses, but Ray wasn’t honestly sure if he would’ve wanted to.

And then rather suddenly, the screaming started up.

It scared the living hell out of him, causing him to jump almost inches into the air. Heart pounding against his sternum, Ray looked around frantically for the source, realizing moments later that it was coming from inside Geoff’s house. It sounded familiar, but… didn’t.

Having no other choice, Ray bucked himself up and crept across the front of Geoff’s house to quietly open the chest next to the pin-up board. The latter was made out of a different material than the original, but Ray paid it no heed and instead rifled through the contents of the box. He could’ve floated off of the surface of whatever dark planet he’d wandered onto when he found an iron sword. He kept it in his hand as he closed the lid, glancing around and seeing no one.

He breathed in deeply and out slowly.

_Time to do this._

The only real place they could be holding him was Geoff’s house. It was the largest, and though Ray couldn’t be sure if the layout was the exact same, the basement was the most likely possibility. It sent shivers down his spine to think of whatever the hell they were doing to his lover and best friend, but Ray quickly pushed those thoughts back. They were unneeded right now.

The iron door was closed tightly, the button in the same spot on the panel. Holding his weapon at the ready, he smashed the latch and gripped his weapon.

There was no one waiting for him.

The entrance hall was similar, but not quite a clone copy. Ray was distantly glad to know that they weren’t _exactly_ the same. The trapdoor to what would’ve been the equivalent to Geoff’s stock room was broken and inoperable, but Ray knew there was a back entrance near the far left corner of Geoff’s house. The hall was shorter than normal, but he had a feeling it, too, led to the kitchen. His hands barely shook as he stalked down the hall, peering around the corner and scanning the brightly lit room. It was a similar layout to Geoff’s house, but they’d clearly put different uses to each room.

There was no smoothly carved graphite for the counters, no finely chopped and grained wood for the stools. It was a skeleton of the original, lacking its warmth and memories, and the sight of it made Ray shiver with discomfort. It wasn’t completely bare, but the walls were a maroon red and the broken-down table and chairs were moldy and broken down. Ray doubted they’d been used any time in the past year.

His footsteps echoed on the stone bricks beneath his feet. It gave Geoff’s house a colder feel to it, more chiseled and defined. It would have been flattering, if not for the smears of blood and grime up and down portions of the walls. Ray didn’t look close at those, careful not to let his skin touch them as he tiptoed down the hallways.

Another scream pierced the air, louder and _definitely_ familiar. It made Ray’s breath catch in his throat when he realized that despite being distorted with pain and fear, despite the desperate hope Ray had clung to... it was recognizably Michael. It wasn’t one of his angry yells that Ray was accustomed to, the ones that filled Achievement City when the boys were playing some dumb game to pass the ridiculous amount of free time they had, nor the dramatic outcry that often fell from the redhead’s lips in the throes of passion. It was a unique type of sound that Ray hadn’t ever heard before.

And after today, he never wanted to hear it again.

It cut off rather abruptly. Ray didn’t want to think about what that meant. Instead of dwelling on the terrifying sound, he pushed away from the wall and, throwing caution to the wind, ran through the rest of the house in reckless search for his missing boyfriend.

He knew in his heart what he was going to find, but it still shocked and angered him when he finally reached him.

The entrance to the basement was in the same place it was in Geoff’s house. He rushed down the ladder, biting down on his sword and holding it between his teeth for safekeeping, and landed on the floor of the basement with not a sound. A wave of uncomfortable moisture and heat slammed into him the moment he touched down, causing his head to swim and stomach to lurch. It smelled faintly of copper and rotting meat, though it was mostly overpowered by the thick stench of whatever the hell the ground was made here.

The basement was made of stone bricks like the rest of the house, and gave the room an odd air of elegance, despite the many blood stains smearing the walls. There were also curious black scorch marks climbing up the far right corner, and a golden sword was lodged in the cracks between two bricks. The entire room gave Ray a gut-twisting feeling in his stomach, and he eyed the hallway – which was definitely _not_ in Geoff’s house – with longing and suspicion.

It was utterly silent. There was no talking, no screaming. The only sound to fill the void was Ray’s heavy breathing, which seemed to echo fruitlessly between the tight spaces until finally falling quiet in defeat. His fingers trembled around the hilt of his sword as he squeezed through the tight space. The tip of his sword dragged along the opposite wall as he edged forward.

He froze when he heard a familiar voice – but not the one he was expecting.

“The gag doesn’t really work,” Geoff’s voice mused. It was severely subdued, as if someone had slipped a sleeping pill into the man’s whiskey. “But I like the image it creates.”

A muffled, barely audible response was shot back at him. Ray couldn’t understand the words, and the tone wasn’t clear through whatever was gagging his mouth, but he was almost positive it was Michael.

“Let’s try this, shall we?” Geoff invited in soft tones. There was a series of metal clicking together before wet footsteps echoed back to him. Ray had time to peek around the corner and process the scene before watching with wide eyes as a scenario he’d never wanted to witness played out in front of him.

Geoff – or… not-Geoff was standing behind Michael, who was definitely the same Michael, with a steel ligature in hand. His tone had been gentle and faintly mocking, but there was no smile on his face, which made the scene even more unnerving. Though the man looked like Geoff, he didn’t _look_ like Geoff. His hair was a striking black, skin pearly white with no blemishes. The light dusting of facial hair he had was ebony speckles on his narrow chin, face hollowed from severe weight loss. His cheeks and eyes were heavily sunken in, leaving him looking sickly and practically colorless. The shade of his eyes remained the same compared to that of the original, and his characteristic ‘armor’ clothes had the colors reversed. Instead of the familiar, warm green fabric of soft, thin cotton, he was wearing a dull shade of navy blue that didn’t seem to match his color scheme as a whole. Looking at the imposter, Ray couldn’t help but imagine that it _was_ Geoff; someone had just sucked the color out of him.

The color and his empathy.

Ray didn’t want to analyze Michael too closely, purely selfish reasons being the root of his fears, but he couldn’t look away from where Geoff was pressing the serrated edge of the ligature into his neck. Beads of blood were forming at a rapid pace and streaming down his neck to collect in the depression above his collarbone. His head had been forced back by a rope attached to his hands, the most vulnerable and emasculating pose possible for a torture victim. And Ray didn’t want to admit it, but that was exactly what Michael was in that moment.

His scream was cut off by a combination of the chokehold over his neck and the wadded up piece of fabric in his mouth. Judging by the yellow color, it had been torn from Michael’s very own pants.

Ray had to force his eyes away from Michael’s face, but the image had already been thoroughly burned into his brain: russet eyes wide and filled with tears, face contorted in anguish, blood coating his mouth and lower nose. His teeth were stained red over the cloth, where they clenched the gag in what Ray suspected what an attempt to hold in the screams. From his position in the doorway, Ray could see the tender skin of his neck splitting under the sharp edge of the metal.

It was over before Ray could take action. His muscles twitched in preparation for movement, but ‘Geoff’ had suddenly released the metal, the contraption falling to the floor with a loud clang. The man was quiet, seeming to relish the sound of the redhead’s low groan of pain. Michael’s eyes fluttered and Ray gripped his sword tighter.

‘Geoff’ studied Michael’s face for a long, long time. Ray could see what looked like a _diamond_ sword strapped to the impostor's belt. Frantically thinking up a plan, he glanced behind him to make sure the hallway was still empty before boring a hole into Geoff. Imposter Geoff. The more he appraised the man’s sauntering gate, the way he stared coldly at the wounds he inflicted on the younger, the less he looked like Geoff.

Almost as if sensing Ray’s eyes on his weapon, imposter Geoff abruptly withdrew it from its sheath. Ray’s heart almost dropped three feet. His iron sword was like a toothpick compared to that thing, but if he was actually about to kill Michael with it, he couldn’t just stand there and watch with his thumb up his ass.

He almost moved forward to take his chances when the imposter stepped in between Michael’s legs, sword held aloft, but the man simply set the blade to Michael’s bare chest, just under his left pectoral. Ray had tried to avoid looking below Michael’s neck, but now his gaze was drawn there automatically.

The beautiful, pale expanse of firm muscle was no longer the seamless, unblemished skin it’d once been. Now marred with vicious claw and bite marks, it spoke of suffering through hell. Blood caked the entirety of Michael’s left side, wet and glistening in the dim torch light, though its source was unidentifiable. With every heave of his chest, the many lacerations decorating his torso would split open, revealing the sickening depth in which they’d been carved. Ray refused to think about how easily infection would set in if he got Michael out.

 _When_ he got Michael out.

He could see his clenched hands struggling desperately in his bonds to free himself as Geoff began to gouge a new wound that instantly began weeping as he painstakingly dragged the razor-sharp, cyan blade up the redhead’s pectoral. A weak whimper slipped past the gag, too many shades of defeated and –

– and it was too much –

Drowning in blinding rage, Ray surged forward. He’d never made such a purposeful strike at any living creature with the intent to not just kill, but make it _hurt._ It didn’t even matter how similar this _thing_ looked to Geoff.

His aim was impeccable: right through the shoulder blades.

It went in like a spoon through well-cooked meat, but his passion fueled him; in one forceful push, the alabaster tip of the sword had ripped through the imposter’s sternum and ribcage to emerge on the other side.

Geoff didn’t really seem to care.

The smirking expression didn’t change, even when Ray mercilessly twisted the blade. Blood began to ooze and spurt from the fatal wound, soaking the man’s clothes until the front of his body was completely drenched in the red substance.

The moment before Ray withdrew his sword, ‘Geoff’s head fell back, lolling against his shoulder to give the brunette a lazy, Geoff-trademark grin, completely with the droopy-eyes and slight upturn of the right corner of his mouth. Ray’s breath caught in his throat and despite all logic, the thought suddenly occurred to him that he’d just murdered Geoff.

But then the creature’s _freezing cold_ blood seeped over his hands and he snarled, ripping his sword out violently. There was a sickening _shlech!_ noise with the removal of the blade, but it was lost under the sound of ‘Geoff’ grunting, big tattooed hands coming up to clutch at the gaping wound, slouching forward and subsequently splattering blood on the thighs of Michael’s jeans. Stumbling to the side, the imposter’s face was shrouded in the shadow of the torch. He finally fell to his knees, and then his stomach. His head hit the stone floor with a dull bang.

The only sound in the room was Michael’s muffled breathing.

The sword dropped from Ray’s trembling hands. The same hands that were immediately clutching at his boyfriend’s jaw, carefully working the gag out of his mouth as well as he could with the quiver in his fingers. Michael inhaled sharply, though Ray couldn’t imagine it was at all satisfying. It was dank and smelly down here, the air as stale as that inside of an outhouse. As the redhead struggled to regain his breath, Ray carded his hands through his hair, checking for any injuries up there. He knew now that Michael hadn’t been hallucinating – and definitely not lying – but the fact remained that he had gotten a head injury not days ago. Receiving another so quickly could mean serious problems down the road.

Luckily, there seemed to be no trauma to his head. The blood surrounding his nose was concerning, but it could wait.

If there was a completely built Achievement City in this odd dimension… there wasn’t just going to be a dark version of Geoff.

Michael seemed lost as Ray worked to undue the bindings. It took him an embarrassingly long time to remember that there was not only a sword in the room, but a _diamond_ sword. He grabbed it from the other side of the chair and hacked at the surprisingly tough rope until it finally snapped, allowing Michael to relax his head and neck muscles. His chin hit his chest as he groaned, weakly bringing his arms around to rub at his raw and chaffed wrists. As much as Ray wanted to soothe the redhead’s pain, to comfort and assure him that he was going to get him out – they didn’t have time. They had to move and _now_.

“Michael, up, up, c’mon,” Ray said in a shell-shocked voice. Firmly but gently, he pulled on Michael’s bicep until the redhead was leaning against him. His decision was quickly made and within milliseconds, he had hefted the slightly larger man onto his shoulders, carrying the majority of Michael’s weight as he lugged him away from the chair. Recognizing that a diamond sword was more valuable than an iron one, Ray stashed it into his immediately inventory before placing both hands on Michael’s chest and helping him over the body of imposter-Geoff. Michael didn’t seem overly aware of their surroundings, but he willingly allowed Ray to guide him through the narrow passage.

The ladder was a bit of a problem, but with a few hasty pushes, Michael got the idea. His hands barely gripped the iron rungs and his feet slid multiple times, but he made it up with Ray’s help. Ray was half expecting someone to meet them at the top, but it was miraculously clear. The phrase _too easy_ was on his mind as he practically dragged Michael out of the house.

About halfway off the logo, one of the distant squeals erupted some distance away and Michael seemed to come alive. A bloodied hand pushed at Ray’s arm, a weak attempt to push it off. Faltering in surprise, Ray glanced at the redhead, watching as brown eyes narrowed in concentration, awareness sharpening his gaze. Slowing down slightly, Ray looked around to assure that they were alone before he stopped completely and allowed Michael to break away from him with a clumsy stagger.

“Michael, we have to keep going,” Ray said, extending a hand. He knew Michael wouldn’t take it.

“I don’t – I can’t… fucking…”

Ray swallowed heavily, heart sinking. “Just trust me for about twenty minutes while we get to the portal –”

“Just trust you,” Michael parroted. He seemed confused.

Ray threw a furtive glance around, knowing he didn’t have time to coax the stubborn idiot. “Michael, we need to go! _Please!_ ”

Michael gave a shuddery breath, cringing when the movement opened up some of the slowly scabbing wounds. Hunched over and looking oddly small, Michael studied him with something eerily close to fear before giving a hesitant nod and stumbling after Ray. He immediately shook off Ray’s attempt to work his arm once more over his shoulder. Ignoring the redhead’s obvious protest, Ray didn’t allow Michael to pull his hand from his as he led the injured man off the logo.

He hadn’t marked the trail back to the portal, but he didn’t need it. From where Dark Achievement City had been, there weren’t many paths available to take. Over the moss-covered version of Gavin’s house, there was a trail that didn’t match the layout of the original city. Ray had no clue as to where it would lead. Honestly, he wasn’t all that curious.

Michael started to struggle in his grasp again about one hundred yards from the portal. Thinking that he’d either forgotten their earlier agreement or that he’d thought of a new reason not to trust the brunette, Ray didn’t fight back, allowing Michael to run at his own pace. For having so many injuries – which were beginning to look worse and worse in the growing light – he was still able to keep the pace. Plus, Ray could now freely wield the diamond sword.

Both of the men jumped when one of the squeals shook the air not far from them. It was distinctly close, and with a sound like that, Ray wasn’t exactly enthused to meet it. He glanced at Michael, who was standing next to him and looking deathly white. His skin had adopted an unhealthy pallor not long ago, but there was a new, more familiar look in the redhead’s eyes.

He was preparing for a fight.

Ray was slightly relieved to see that Michael had seemed to have gained some of his equilibrium back. Though still bleeding and obviously dizzy, he could run in a relatively straight line behind Ray. The brunette glanced back at him every few moments to assure his mate was behind him.

 _They_ appeared in the pauses between one glance and the next.

It was a horde of them, at least eight or ten, sprinting full speed after them. They vaguely resembled pigs but stood like men, with hands and feet, and –

Ray was beginning to realize that not listening to Michael may end up getting them both killed.

“Michael, c’mon!” Ray shouted. Michael thankfully picked up the pace until he was almost right behind Ray. Feeling his body heat would have to do; Ray no longer could afford to turn back and look. He could feel the ground shaking under his feet as they stampeded, very similar to a spooked herd of cows multiplied by at least ten. The temperature around them rose as they approached the portal and Ray was struck with fear of how long it would take to travel through the portal – they were right on the edge of a hundred-foot drop-off, with a herd of monsters after them.

Ray had never run so fast in his life.

\---

Michael started to fall behind only two hundred feet or so from the portal. He instinctively reached out to grab at the back of Ray’s shirt for help, but his hand met nothing but warm, smoldering air. Blinking rapidly, he realized it was because his vision had long ago been distorted.

He’d been falling behind for a while now.

The words to call for Ray stuck in his throat. He couldn’t think in even a remotely linear fashion, the thoughts instantly derailing before they had to chance to fully form. The pain in his body was overtaking each of his senses, vision darkening to a gloomy shade of gray, skin feeling distinctly on fire from those long few hours of torture, a rushing in his ears –

But through that, he’d been able to hear the pigman’s screams.

His flight or fight response had sustained his speed, but exhaustion was quickly overtaking him. No, not exhaustion – something else, something darker, something… more permanent.

And just to drive the nail into the spike, when something ripped through his shoulder, he realized he wasn’t going to make it.

He didn’t see what it was until he tripped and rolled to a stop, dazedly looking up at the blood-red sky of whatever hell he’s managed to get himself killed in. He couldn’t believe he was going to die so young, and not even in the comfort of his own fucking dimension.

What a way to go.

He saw the glint of gold before he felt it. It cut deep into his thigh, probably severing a lot of vital stuff in the meaty section, but Michael rolled to the side before the blade could inflict more damage. It was a pigman. He could smell it. The stench was hauntingly familiar, and the memory of a day not even a week ago made him laugh. It came out like a wheeze and he started coughing violently until he finally coughed up a spurt of blood into his palm.

He didn’t have time to laugh about that, too. One of the eight pigman kicked him in the side, where Geoff had previously stabbed and cut into him out of amusement, and Michael was sent flying. He fucking caught up to and _passed_ Ray, sliding by the brunette on the gravel and rocks. It dug into his skin, but Michael couldn’t be bothered.

Eight of the monsters were still barreling towards them, the one with a blood-covered sword leading the group. Ray was slowing down, confusedly looking over his shoulder presumably for Michael and turning back to the redhead with a pale face.

_No, no, no._

“I’m already done for,” he found himself muttering as he climbed strenuously to his feet. The pigman were trained solely on him – not one even glanced at Ray as they careened by. Michael supposed it made sense. He had, after all, killed one of them earlier that week.

The scenario playing out in front of him was damn near humorous.

Though his body was numb, he knew he should be in excruciating pain. He could taste blood in the back of his throat, coating his windpipe and esophagus. The ribs on his left side had been destroyed with the monster's kick. There he could see white shards sticking out in multiple places from his black and scarlet skin. The bones in his forearm had been shattered on impact with the ground, and he had heavy bleeding from many cuts on his chest.

But if his plan didn’t play out, he knew which injury he would die from, and it wasn’t any of those. If he didn’t do this, if he didn’t save Ray, he was going to bleed out from the hole in his side in a matter of minutes. Ray had arrived after the _real_ fun – right after Geoff had shoved that wicked blade through the space between his bottom two ribs. Ray had just not gotten there in time.

It was a good try.

He could hear Ray yelling at him, but he was unsure if the brunette had figured out what he was doing. Ray was standing right next to the goddamn portal, a diamond sword in his hands, but Michael knew that even the sharpest blade in existence wouldn’t be able to take down eight of the fuckers at once. Ray wouldn’t even last a minute.

The decision was easy.

They came at him like a minecart, and he was a little regretful that the last thing he was going to hear would be the pigmens' shrieks and Ray screaming obscenities at him. The pigmens' squeals were loud enough to shake the glowing gold blocks from the high ceiling. He heard the sizzle of the blocks burning and glanced over his shoulder, swallowing when he saw the thick pools of lava bubbling at the bottom of the gorge.

He closed his eyes to allow himself a moment of peace, standing as tall as he could manage and throwing his arms out to the side. A bitter irony curled his lips up in a smirk.

Ray was watching him from a close distance, but in his last moments, Michael was truly alone.

In the end, the most painful part hadn’t been what he’d expected it to be. It wasn’t being hit at a high number of miles per hour, nor was it being stabbed through the chest with a wayward golden sword. It wasn’t the shredding of his internal organs, and it wasn’t even burning to death in lava.

No... no, the most painful part was definitely seeing Ray's head crane over the ledge to watch Michael sacrifice his life.

The self-hatred on Ray’s face was the last thing he saw before his skin began to melt.

\---

_... this is not the beginning._


End file.
